The Venomous Mountain
by The Jolly Gnu
Summary: First in a series of Adventures of the Thirteenth Doctor. Glen Nevis, Scotland, 2011. There's a strange blue box in the Glen, a strange creature within the Mountain, and a strange man with no memory in the Hospital... Reviews very much appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Right, and so it begins: The Adventures of the Thirteenth Doctor! Erm, that's all I can say without giving too much away. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Doctor Who. Now stop thinking I do before I shoot you.

* * *

The chill wind soared softly in and out of one of nature's greatest and most intricate creations, a mighty mountain range. Heather and gorse shook gently, buffeted by the unheeding breeze, but also, slowly but surely, by a newer, stronger gale, one that seemed to whip in from all directions, powerfully blasting the lonely mountainside with strange and peculiar forces. These forces were accompanied by a powerful noise, one that seemed to resonate with the mighty mountains in terms of the sense of sheer age that the noise seemed to call with. Then, with a mighty roar, the form of a tall, blue, angular box coalesced amongst the green and purple mountainside. The soft whispers of the wind continued as the battered, aged box stood, sentinel- like and silent, on the outcropping some way below the snow- covered peak of the mountain. Then, with a slow and doom- laden inevitability, the box teetered, rocked, and finally toppled over the edge, falling, twisting, diving, into the abyss below, striking and bouncing from the cold, unforgiving surface, smashing fragments of rock away into space. Finally, the box rolled to a halt in the foothills of the range, globules of mud thrown up, splattering the words on the top of the object: POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX.

Nothing stirred, inside or outside. That said, the box's single inhabitant had been in no fit state to respond when the materialisation had first been made on the pitted mountainside…

Silence reigned in the glen.

* * *

Dr. Maglect looked up as the doors to his office were pushed open and a fine pair of military boots entered. Attached to these boots was a tall, imposing, gleaming figure of a military commander. The gleam came from a row of impressive medals attached to his broad chest as he stood to attention, glaring impassively at the air above Dr. Maglect's seated form. The doctor pointedly ignored him and continued seeing to his paperwork. This situation continued for a few seconds, before the soldier realised that the doctor wasn't likely to respond any time soon. The soldier gave a sharp cough. Maglect made a small but vicious mark with his pen on the paper, and, after a second, looked up.

"If you aren't here to tell me the blessed news that UNIT is withdrawing its troops here, then get out," he said.

The military figure took two steps forward. "Now, look here, doctor. For reasons that you know full well, a highly trained security force is needed at the complex here while the event is going on, and UNIT is it."

Maglect scratched at his moustache and stood up; he barely reached the soldier's chin. "Colonel Bardon, I have made no secret of the fact that I do not welcome the military presence here," He began. Folding his arms, he continued through gritted teeth; "However, I am willing to put up with you, to a certain extent. That extent does not cover you barging in here every five minutes with your petty complaints or stupid status reports." He sighed. "Which is it this time?"

Colonel Bardon frowned. "I cannot put up with your dismissal of the guards outside of the stasis chamber-"

"Right, it's a petty complaint. Bardon, I-"

It was Maglect's turn to be interrupted, by a bleeping noise emitting from the vicinity of Bardon's wrist. The Colonel lifted his watch to his ear. "Excuse me, doctor, I must take this. Rant at me later." He pressed a button on the watch. "Foxhound one here."

A tinny voice came from the communicator. "Dhole Two, here, sir. Are you alone?"

Bardon hesitated, then said, "No, I'm with Dr. Maglect. What's the matter?"

The voice continued: "It's imperative you hear this, sir. Priority One."

Bardon looked up and stared into the middle distance for a second or two, then: "I'm sorry, doctor, we'll have to continue this discussion at a later date." He wheeled about and had left before Maglect had even begun to shout:

"But that's what _I_ was just saying!"

* * *

Once outside in the corridor, away from any doors, Bardon lifted the watch-communicator to his ear again. "All right, Ceylon. What's happened?"

The voice of his second in command, cultured but excitable, with a hint of an Indian accent, replied, "We've found something in the foothills, near the base of Ben Nevis. Codeword: Splendid Chap."

The breath caught in Colonel Bardon's throat for a moment, then he spoke: "All right, Captain, e-mail me the details and I'll be there immediately. Foxhound One out." The Colonel stood in silence, breathing heavily, staring at the far wall, before a distinct smile spread across his clean- shaven face. Finally, he whispered to himself: "The Doctor…"

* * *

The blue box lay, like a felled tree, on the uneven surface of Glen Nevis. Three soldiers stood by it, one staring into the distance away from the object. The other two stood nearer to the fallen Police Box, staring at it. One tilted his head on one side, scrutinising the strange apparition. Finally he broke the silence.

"So… what is it?" he asked.

The other snorted derisively. "Do you know anything about UNIT? I mean, at all?" he asked. "Or did you just fall accidentally through the window of UNIT HQ?" He scratched irritably at his black hair, sneering at his fairer companion. "What you are looking at, my dear Dolbé, is…" he paused for maximum effect. "…the TARDIS."

Dolbé slowly turned to look at his fellow trooper. "So, for those of us that don't spent their entire free time trawling through old UNIT records… what _is_ the TARDIS?"

The other soldier shifted his gun to a more comfortable position on his shoulder. "Well, have you at least heard of... the Doctor?"

"Vaguely…," began Dolbé, but he was interrupted by the arrival of Colonel Bardon, who was accompanied by a female in a UNIT uniform, which bore sergeant's stripes on the sleeve.

"Colonel," acknowledged the third figure, coming to attention.

"Captain Ceylon," replied Bardon, briskly saluting his aide. He stared over Ceylon's shoulder. "So… this is it."

"This is it, Colonel," replied Ceylon with a shrug.

"Who found it?"

"These two men, Colonel," replied the Captain, gesturing to the two UNIT troopers behind him. "Private Ashworth and Private Dolbé. It looks as if it has fallen from a great height, perhaps even most of the height of the mountain."

"Yes, Ceylon, I can see that, replied Bardon, striding forward to stand by Ashworth and Dolbé, both of whom saluted him. "Sergeant Drayle," he called over his shoulder to the woman who had accompanied him from his jeep. Drayle stepped forward, bowed by the weight of a large, solid- looking metal box, followed by Ceylon, both soldiers moving to complete the group next to the object.

"Is this it, sir?" asked Ashworth eagerly. "Is it… the TARDIS?"

Bardon sighed heavily, withdrawing his hands from the pockets of his heavy military greatcoat. "Yes… yes, I think it might be, erm, er… Private…"

"Ashworth, sir," supplied Ashworth earnestly, eliciting an exasperated look skywards from Dolbé.

But Bardon had already turned away, stepping forward into the ankle- high gorse, taking the heavy box from Drayle, balancing it on the knee of the leg propped on the top of the Police Box, while he took a key on a chain from around his neck and slowly unlocked the box, to unleash… another key. He gently lay the box amongst the vegetation, then, twirling the key about amongst his fingers, he leant forward and slowly unlocked the TARDIS doors, which were fortunately on the side facing upwards. The key slid into the lock, fitting perfectly, causing smiles of triumph from Bardon, Ashworth and Ceylon, smiles that were quickly wiped when the doors failed to fall inwards. Bardon attempted turning it three times, after which he withdrew it from the lock.

"Double- locked," he murmured grimly, tossing the key up into the air and catching it again. "Which would suggest…" he stared around at the peaceful, heavenly Glen, caught in a natural bowl, with mountains on all sides, the majesty of Ben Nevis soaring above it all. "_He's_ out there somewhere."

"The Doctor?" asked Ashworth breathlessly. Bardon slowly nodded, causing Ashworth to punch the air, provoking a slap around the head from Dolbé. As a light- hearted punching match erupted behind him, Bardon strode off towards the jeep, Ceylon and Drayle hurrying in his wake.

"If the craft is in this state, maybe he's injured," suggested Ceylon, his accented tones coinciding with the identical thought in Bardon's mind.

"Good point, Captain," replied Bardon. "Have all free personnel have a look around for anyone matching any of the known descriptions. Drayle, have someone look around the hospitals for any… unusual cases or patients."

Drayle thought for a second. "Jenny's off- duty, sir."

"Yes, good idea," retorted Bardon. "Give Donague something to do, the poor girl's been bored out of her industrial strength, odour- combating socks."

"On it, sir," replied Sergeant Drayle, biting back a smile as she turned away, speaking into her wrist- communicator.

Bardon started to march once again to the jeep, commenting to Ceylon as he went, "Heaven knows we could use the Doctor with this one…"

* * *

The three figures stood around the stasis chamber, looking at the coffin- like shape, inside which lay a perfectly preserved block of ice, its temperature kept regulated by at least five different monitors. Through the transparent plastic, behind the murky distortion of the ice, an indistinct shape lay.

Dr. Maglect folded his arms and looked at the two figures on the other side of the chamber. "UNIT's presence here could ruin everything," he said, his smooth voice echoing around the cold, empty, grey chamber.

Professor Quintus shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his lab coat. "Well, steady on, old chap," he said, tilting his head back and looking down his nose at Maglect. "They are here for our own safety and security and etcetera, you know." He turned to the woman standing next to him. "What say you, old thing?"

Doctor McStevens scratched her nose. "The Doctor has a point. The last impression we want our guest to get is to wake up surrounded by brutish idiots with guns," she said, pausing to look at Maglect. "That _was_ what you meant, wasn't it?"

Maglect frowned. "Amongst other things…" He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "UNIT seems to think that every new scientific discovery is their domain. We have power at our fingertips- our names could go down in history- and UNIT seeks to take that away from us!" He emphasised his point by smacking his fist into the open palm of his hand. Quintus and McStevens exchanged a look of slight worry; neither had ever seen Dr. Maglect this emotive about anything, or had indeed ever seen him emotive at all.

* * *

Jenny Donague strolled into the Accident and Emergency ward of Belford Hospital, taking in everything around her as a male nurse scurried in her wake.

"Erm- look- I'm not sure you should just barge in here like this, disturbing all our patients," the nurse bleated. Jenny rounded on him.

"I showed you my I.D, didn't I? Did I not impress upon you the importance of my mission?" She raised both eyebrows. The nurse cringed and took a step backwards, wringing his hands together. Jenny's expression softened. "Look, I won't be here for long. So, which is the guy you took in earlier?"

"Bed six," replied the orderly, pointing to the bed in question. Jenny moved towards bed six, the nurse looking anxiously after her.

The young woman reached the end of bed six and stuck her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. In the bed sat a man, propped up against his pillows, dressed in hospital pyjamas. Jenny took in his tall but broad frame, his short, tousled brown hair, and the pair of intense, deep, brown eyes, which were staring keenly at his long, bony hands. He paused, becoming aware of the slim, anxious- looking young woman with dirty- blonde hair at the foot of his bed. Slowly he raised his wild, staring hazel eyes to meet her green ones.

"You're looking for someone," he said unblinkingly. It wasn't a question. Jenny got the impression that he was trying to see right into the core of her soul. She shook herself. The man went on, in his calm, English accent. "Are you looking for me?"

Jenny turned her face slightly away, but without breaking eye contact, looking at him curiously. "I don't know. Who _are_ you?" she asked.

The man blinked at last, looking down in no small amount of confusion. "I… don't know…"

The nurse came up behind Jenny. "Is he the man you're looking for?"

"I'm not sure," Jenny replied, still staring through narrowed eyes at the mysterious patient.

"A pity," said the nurse. "We were hoping someone might be able to shed a bit of light on him. He was found by some ramblers near Càrn Mòr Dearg."

"Any possessions?" Jenny asked. The nurse hesitated. "I have full authority," Jenny reminded him.  
The young orderly relaxed slightly. "Only the clothes he stood up in, really." He moved over to the centre of the ward, from where he collected a squashed plastic bag, which he brought back over to Jenny. The young UNIT member laid the bag on an unused bedside table nearby, and took out an assortment of stained and damaged clothing, including: a pair of ripped black trousers; a pair of battered boots, one torn right down its length; a filthy shirt with old- fashioned threadbare frills; and a green waistcoat, now practically shredded.

_Weird outfit to go rambling in,_ thought Jenny. _Weird outfit to do _anything_ in._

Last to come out was a tough- looking blue hat. Jenny knew some fashion- wise people who would have been visibly repulsed by this hat. She held it up to the light, noting the slightly scorched rounded holes in the sides. As she stared at it, she noticed that the strange man's gaze was fixed on her once again, staring intently in her direction, a slight frown twitching at his eye. He opened his mouth, exhaling as he visibly thought, clearly disturbed by something. Finally his mouth moved.

"Hat," he said, and fainted.

* * *

Civilian eyes followed Colonel Bardon and Captain Ceylon as they strode down the high street of Fort William. They stepped through the door of a restaurant, Bardon feeling the gaze of the passers- by on his uniformed back. He was well aware that many of the town's occupants were distinctly unhappy with the military presence in the Glen, disrupting the usual steady flow of tourists to the area. Still, at least his men were making up some of the lost income with the small fortune they spent in the pub, the Colonel thought. He'd have to have words with Sergeant Drayle about that, but in the meantime it _was _amusing watching the Sergeant easily beat any three of her men in a drinking contest. _Fighting spirit,_ he thought to himself. _That's what they've got, and plenty of it._

"There she is," said Ceylon, winding his way through the small maze of tables to where Jenny was sitting, gently shaking salt over a steak pie.

"Well, Donague?" asked Bardon, pulling up a chair.

Jenny momentarily paused, an expression of indecision on her face which did not fill the Colonel with confidence. "Well, sir… there's an amnesiac in Belford Hospital… he was found wandering around the foothills, dressed eccentrically-"

"Is it him?" interrupted the young Captain, leaning forward eagerly.

Jenny scratched her ear. "I really don't know, sir. Like I said, he's lost his memory- the file on him you gave me won't really help here. It might be the Doctor- it might be some escaped lunatic."

"All right," said Bardon, leaning forward. "Captain, don't call off the search just yet." He checked over both shoulders, then lowered his voice; the others leaned forward conspiratorially. "It is imperative we find him. If there's a time when I'd like the legendary Doctor covering my back… it's when we're mere days away from thawing out… an Ice Warrior."

* * *

If you review, I'll post the next chapter soon. If you don't... I'll post it anyway. But still feel free to review! 


	2. Chapter 2

**Hurrah, Chapter 2! By the way, I can't help but notice that my Who fics have never got many reviews. Why are you so cruel, people of Fanfiction? I've stopped writing nasty, cynical, rude stuff, and I've even deleted my most offensive stuff. So be nice to me. **

**Anyway, thank you Flinch-Hayward and BocasAwlBeBack, my only two, but very valued reviewers. Here's hoping you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Doctor Jeffrey Maglect moved silently down the corridor, keeping to the wall as he tiptoed down the stairs into the underground sector of the complex. He restrained himself from making a cowering leap backwards into the shadows (even those UNIT imbeciles would find that a little suspicious) as two soldiers- McTavish, the doctor seemed to remember the name of the lead one was, but for the life of him he didn't know or care who the other was- appeared from around the corner, carrying between them a large, heavy and complex- looking piece of equipment, with strange appendages which clattered and wobbled violently as the pair struggled with the gleaming shape, their red UNIT berets tucked into their epaulettes.

"Sir," McTavish acknowledged curtly as they clattered up the stairs. Maglect stared after them, wishing that he had been fast enough to ask Bardon's lackeys what the odd device had been, but, whatever it was, it appeared to be important, for the soldiers had whisked past at a fair rate.

Maglect continued on his covert path, glancing over his shoulder, deep in thought. He was surprised to see any UNIT troops at all here; he thought that they were all off on some no doubt irrelevant traipse across the Glen. He absentmindedly scratched at his greasy goatee, wondering whether their superiors knew that they were down here, lugging some kind of computer across the Glen Nevis complex.

He didn't wonder particularly hard, however, for he had more pressing matters digging into his cerebrum. Matters which he turned practically his full attention to as he jabbed his pass-code into the door control to the stasis chamber.

He half- spun into the room, so that he was staring suspiciously out at the open doorway. Only after the door had once again sealed itself did he relax his over- tensed muscles and turn to look into the semi- dark room, where a slight, shadowy figure stood, peering in his direction on the other side of the curved cryo- compartment with its ground- breaking cargo.

"Is that you?" whispered Maglect.

Doctor McStevens stepped forward into the small pool of light that focused down on the shape in the chamber, outlining it in all its otherworldly glory. "Aye, it's me. Why did you want to see me, Doctor? And why here? If it's about the thawing, shouldn't Professor Quintus-"

Maglect cut across her babble with a sweep of his hand. "I doubt the Professor would like what I have to suggest. He is…," he paused, sucking at his teeth, "…rather quaint in his ideals."

McStevens pointed an accusing finger at Maglect. "Now, hang on," she began. "If you're about to suggest anything below board, I'm going to-"

"Not even," interrupted Maglect, moving towards her, "If it would ensure that humanity would remember the names of McStevens and Maglect for millennia to come, as pioneers of the next step in human evolution?"

The strips of the Scot's face visible in the ghastly light thrown by the small lamp remained unconvinced. "Is this going to be another of those schemes that you kept suggesting when we first discovered the Martian, and which UNIT repeatedly put- no pun intended- on ice?"

Maglect clasped the lapels of his waistcoat. "Ah, but this time, I'm not going to suggest it to UNIT. And what UNIT doesn't know, believe me, they are completely incapable of finding out for themselves. Those bumbling idiots and their fools of officers don't need to come into this conversation at all," he said reassuringly, leaning forward, his palms on the gently vibrating surface of the cryo- chamber. "Now, I'm not pressing you into doing anything. All you have to do is listen to an idea…"

* * *

Three miles away, in a Fort William restaurant, those "fools of officers" were awaiting their lunch. Opposite Colonel Bardon and Captain Ceylon, Jenny Donague was tucking heartily into her steak pie, when the chimes of her mobile phone filled the room, drawing disgruntled and irritated looks from other tables. Tugging it from inside her jacket pocket, she glanced at the identity of the caller, and frowned.

"It's a nurse at the local hospital. I gave him my number in case anything came up." She lifted the device to her ear and listened intently. Bardon and Ceylon could hear the rough edge of a Scottish accent through the minute speaker. Jenny's expression slowly melted into a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

"What is it?" asked Ceylon anxiously. Bardon gestured for quiet, then leaned in to hear what Jenny had to say.

The young woman snapped the mobile shut and looked at her Colonel, seriousness dominating her eyes. "The scans for that unidentified patient have just come in, sir."

"And?" asked Bardon.

"He's got two hearts, sir."

* * *

The doors of the A&E ward slammed open, causing several of the patients to start, with varying seriousness. Once the young male nurse had reassured himself that old Sir Hector Bruce's heart was still going, he scampered over to the small group of arrivals, an irate expression on his face and an angry outburst in his throat. Jenny stepped forward to pacify him.

"Yes, all right, Hamish," she soothed, taking hold of the man's shoulders and staring deep into his eyes. "Just- don't start on us now; we rather urgently need to speak to the amnesia case. Trust me; we won't make that kind of racket again. Just… just go and see to the people who need you." She patted him on the cheek and turned towards Bed Six, followed in her path by Bardon and Ceylon. Bardon looked at her in admiring amusement.

"How _do _you do that, Donague?" he asked.

"You wouldn't be able to do it if you knew, Colonel," Jenny said over her shoulder, arriving at the foot of the bed. "Sorry, but you just wouldn't have that kind of effect on most men."

Before the Colonel could react, Jenny had turned to the enigmatic patient, to find him popping a grape into his mouth. Swiftly moving into the bedside chair, Jenny stared at the man until he turned to face her, a bemused look on his features.

"Hello," Jenny began softly. "Do you remember me? We talked earlier, remember? I'm Jenny Donague; I work for an organisation called UNIT. This is Colonel Bardon, my Boss." She paused, watching recognition flare in the man's eyes. "Who gave you the grapes?" she asked.

"A man," the patient replied innocently.

"A man? What was the man like?" asked Bardon urgently, moving forward. The amnesiac turned his child-like gaze on the Colonel.

"Male," he said.

The Colonel made an impatient, disgusted noise, and before Jenny could stop him, leant forward, weighing down on the man's bed, and, staring into his face, said slowly and loudly: "Are… you… the… Doc… tor?"

The man in the bed's expression was completely neutral for a few seconds, then, slowly, he went cross- eyed. He muttered something to himself. Jenny leaned in.

"What was that?"

The man uncrossed his eyes and looked at her, head on one side. "I said, "Odd nose." Looks… wrong, somehow. But that can't be right… can it?" Suddenly, in one movement, he slid down underneath the bedclothes, staring up at the ceiling. "Tired now," he whispered. His eyes flickered across to meet Jenny's. "Unless you can tell me who I am, I really would like to get some sleep."

His voice was laced with pleading, but Jenny couldn't really tell whether he was pleading for identity, rest, or something else. Holding up a warning finger to Colonel Bardon, who was reaching boiling point now, Jenny held her lips millimetres from the patient's ear. "Do you know what 'UNIT' stands for?" she asked softly. The stranger fractionally shook his head. "United… Nations… Intelligence… Taskforce," she whispered, giving each word emphasis. She watched the man's brows crease as she stood up, then gestured to Colonel Bardon to leave.

The Colonel gripped her arm as they moved off, wordlessly demanding an explanation. "It's the Doctor, it's got to be," argued Jenny. "Now, if we give him a stimulus, his memories should return quicker."  
Bardon slackened his grip. "I suppose it _must_ be the Doctor," he said thoughtfully. He stopped Hamish the nurse imperiously. "There's no chance that those ectopic readings were false?" he asked.

Hamish shook his head. "Not a chance. They were tripled checked, and I've actually physically checked- he has a double heartbeat."

"Thanks, Hamish," said Jenny, flashing him a smile. "Erm… I think it'd be best if we kept this guy's details on a need- to- know basis, eh?"

Bardon and Jenny left the ward, exiting into the corridor, where they found Captain Ceylon. "Where did you go?" asked Bardon abruptly. In answer, Ceylon held up the remains of his lunch, wrapped in a restaurant napkin, and wiped the crumbs from his mouth.

* * *

The man with no name lay, staring at the patterns of light on the ceiling. In the bed to his right, Sir Hector Bruce turned to look at the immobile patient. His corpulent face twisted into a flabby smile of interest.

"You're the fella they say has got two hearts, aren't you?" he said, slightly louder than necessary. "What did those young people want?" He made vague good- natured gestures towards his neighbour. "What, did they think you're a space alien, or something?"

His massive chest bounced with his suppressed, wheezing laughter. But the man continued staring dumbly up at the light, his eyes flickering to and fro in thought. The words echoed around his skull: "United… Nations… Intelligence… Taskforce…" The words continued to fill his brain, as if bouncing around inside there, sometimes striking some hidden thought, and causing sparks of memory- but no, they were gone. And then… he recalled something else. Another fragment of speech: something that that tall soldier- man with the big nose had said: _"Are you… the Doctor?"_

_The Doctor…_ the two words somehow struck a chord in the man's mind, sending reverberations down his spine, along his limbs, into every cell of every fibre of his being. He frowned, opening his mouth, slowly letting out a long, juddering sigh.

* * *

The lukewarm, gentle sunshine lit up the Glen as night approached steadily over the horizon. The recent structure of the scientific complex attracted the eye as it sprawled lazily over the countryside, the new arrival shoving the old holiday cottages and campsites rudely aside as it peered up with scientific interest at Ben Nevis.

In the small courtyard, surrounded on all sides by the corridors, labs and offices of the complex, Privates Ashworth and Dolbe sloped in, footsore and disgruntled.

"A wild goose chase," sneered Dolbe. "We're never going to find this Doctor of yours."

"Maybe he doesn't _want_ to be found," Ashworth swiftly retorted, bridled, but he was interrupted by the quick- marched entrance of Sergeant Drayle and a tall, smart, arrogant- looking young soldier, Private Keats.

The Sergeant came to a quick halt. "Attention!" she bellowed. Keats snapped into position like a mousetrap. Ashworth and Dolbe wearily moved to stand next to him, laboriously sliding their limbs into position, under the glaring eye of Drayle.

The diminutive Sergeant strode up and down in from of them, apparently none the worse for her mountain hike.

"'Ere, where are McTavish and Lamb?" Dolbe suddenly asked abruptly. Drayle wheeled on him, somewhat irritated by the question, but, as if on cue, McTavish burst out of a set of doors to their right and jogged over to them, followed by the considerably slower and older veteran Private Lamb.

As they slotted into place, Ashworth turned to McTavish. "Hey, have you two been bunking off?" he asked accusingly. "Oh, that's just not fair. You 'ad the easiest route and all-"

Lamb leaned forward out of the line, his wrinkled face creased even further. "Now, hey. We'd been let off the search. We had to do a job for-"

"All right, that's quite enough of that!" Drayle barked. The line of soldiers settled down.

"Sorry, sir," muttered McTavish.

"All right, I'll speak to you two later," the Sergeant glowered. She stood back to look at them all. "So, I take it you two didn't find anything?" she asked Ashworth and Dolbe.

They were in the very act of shaking their heads when, with a roar of the engine, the Colonel's jeep drew into the courtyard and disgorged Bardon, Ceylon and Jenny. Drayle snapped to attention as they approached.

"Sir!" she said, which was chorused by McTavish and Keats readily, and, somewhat slower and less enthusiastically, by the others.

"All right, stand at ease, men," called Bardon, raising a hand in greeting and casual salute. "I'm calling off the search." After the audible sighs of relief from Ashworth and Dolbe had faded away, he continued: "However, from now on, I want a permanent guard on the A&E ward of Belford Hospital. I want that guard to detain any visitor to the patient in bed six and otherwise care for his well- being."

"Is it the Doctor, sir?" asked Ashworth breathlessly. Bardon hesitated, then nodded.

"Captain Ceylon will organise the order. Four hour shifts, Captain. That'll be all."

As he left, Ceylon surveyed the troops, frowning a little at Ashworth, who was busy punching the air. "Ah… Dolbe first, I think, then… erm… McTavish, and then Keats, Lamb and Ashworth." Each acknowledged the command with a murmured "Sir," and, after a shouted command to stand at ease from Drayle, departed.

Jenny, Ceylon and Drayle moved together.

"So, it's definite in the Colonel's mind, then?" Drayle asked. "He _is_ the Doctor?"

"I thought so all along," Ceylon said hastily.

"What changed his mind?" Drayle asked.

Ceylon gestured with his head sideways at Jenny. "I think she did."

Jenny shrugged. "I know next to nothing about the man. I've just… got a good feeling about him."

* * *

Doctor McStevens sat alone in her claustrophobic office, thinking deeply. It was certainly an attractive proposal Maglect had made…

But, as the doctor had said, Professor Quintus would certainly have argued against it because of the moral implications. McStevens herself was not sure that she could bring herself to do it. But, certainly, it was an interesting proposal, and, after all, no harm would come to _humans_ through it, would it? She chewed at her thumbnail. She had a difficult decision to make before morning…

* * *

In the hospital, the man with two hearts watched the discharged Sir Hector wave and guffaw at him as the knight was wheeled out of the ward, without really taking it in. His mind was working faster and faster, words zipping around his skull: United Nations Intelligence Taskforce… Lethbridge Stewart… Yetis… Cybermen… Daleks… Gallifrey… Tardis… Doctor… but none of it _meant_ anything. Incredibly frustrating, he thought, as he lay down in bed and the ward lights were switched off one by one. So much of his past was lurking behind a curtain, but he was unable to find the right motion to reach out and pull the arras back. The words and connections continued- until, shining out in the centre of it all, one word, one person: _Susan._

The Doctor's eyes flicked open; breathing hard, he stared unseeing at the dark ceiling, as a smile began to grow across his face…

* * *

Outside, in the corridor, Private McTavish reclined in the hard plastic chair, shifting uncomfortably. He was shaken back into full wakefulness by the sound of footsteps on the cold, sterile floor of the Hospital. He stood up, peering into the gloom.

"Oh, it's you, sir," McTavish said pleasantly, as he recognised the figure. Too late he noticed the silenced pistol in the rising hand of the arrival; too late he got close enough to see the gleaming glare on the figure's face.

With a dull _phut,_ the gun spat out a vicious bullet. McTavish stumbled back, shock and betrayal stamped on his haggard features. The gun shook once more, and the Scot fell to the floor, dragging the chair over as he collapsed, his body spasming once… then moving no more.

The figure stepped over the corpse, and moved slowly towards the ward, gun at the ready… towards the defenceless human patients… and one Time Lord.

* * *

**Hurrah! If you're very lucky, Chapter Three will be incoming shortly!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sigh... all right, in my defence, I had writer's block all through writing this chapter up until about the last couple of paragraphs, and when I wrote _them_ it was midnight and I was exhausted. **

**The simple fact of the matter is that I don't think that this chapter's anything like up to the standard of the previous two. Also, nothing really happens in this chapter, it's just finishing off setting things up for the main bulk of the story. That's why it's much longer than either of the previous chapters and took three days to write instead of two. **

**Wait, what?**

**Anyway, never mind. Oh, and thanks again to those who reviewed. **

* * *

He was the Doctor. The knowledge of this pulsing in his head like a third heartbeat propelled him up into a sitting position. Looking around frantically, he felt and saw the ward swim alarmingly around him. He scrunched his eyelids together, tight, until the nausea passed and the world around him steadied. He opened his eyes, and, squinting into the darkness, began to properly take stock of the situation.

First things first; get out of this bed. He needed to get to the safety of the TARDIS. He concentrated hard, probing the past with the long fingers of memory… but no. A massive hole remained in his recollections, dragging every fleeting image into its elusive depths. All he really knew was that he was in a new, different body: he had regenerated again.

A wave of panic rose up inside his throat: his last regeneration; this was his last life. Mortality. He finally experienced what his countless companions had felt; what they went through every day of their lives; and he didn't like it.

But there would be time to consider the implications later. Right now, he had to get to the TARDIS; he felt sure he could find answers there.  
He swung himself out of bed, wincing as his bare feet hit the cold floor. Looking down at his pyjamaed self, the Doctor chewed at his lip in consternation. Casting his mind back to the period of confusion from which he had just surfaced, he recalled an image of that girl from UNIT… with a hat. _His_ hat.

The Doctor turned to the centre of the room, staring across the darkness at the nurse's station, where he knew his clothes were sitting, untended, on a table. _But how to get to them without the nurse seeing?_ he thought to himself. Flattening himself against the wall and staring with narrowed eyes at the middle of the room, the Time Lord came to a realisation. He was out of bed, right in the orderly's field of vision. The only reason there could be for the lack of a challenge was…

A soft snore whispered across the air. The Doctor grinned. His toes wriggled and flexed in discomfort as he padded across the chill floor. Reaching the sleeping figure, he sucked in his breath as he extended his arm, picking up the flimsy plastic bag between thumb and forefinger, desperately trying to produce minimum rustle. He lifted it, agonisingly slowly, and began backing away again.

Amazingly, he made it back to bed six, his luck holding with regards to the comatose nature of his fellow patients. Gently opening the bag, the first item he encountered was his hat. He frowned, somewhat taken aback by the stained, burnt, distressed nature of the headgear. Dropping the hat softly onto his bed, he pressed his fists into his eyeballs, striving to remember the circumstances of his regeneration, but… it remained a complete blank.

Stripping off his pyjamas, the Doctor pulled on his trousers- with some difficulty; it appeared he was both taller and fatter than his previous incarnation, followed by his socks and shirt. The lonely figure tugged irritably at the dirty, frilly shirt before realising that he had put his arm through a massive hole at the shoulder instead of the sleeve. Increasingly worried by the state of his clothing, the Doctor corrected the mistake, and looked to his waistcoat. Or at least, in the almost complete darkness, he _assumed_ it was his waistcoat; it wasn't really recognisable as any garment. He tossed it aside as a dead loss, and pulled out his boots, with a heart- stopping crackle as the now empty bag stuck to the shoes. As he sat down on the bed to put them on, he realised that they too were useless; the feet were about six sizes too big- no, that was wrong, he reminded himself. It was the boots that were too small; _this_ was his body now, for good.

As he was sliding his feet into hospital slippers, the Doctor jerked his head sideways like a startled rodent at a soft but violent sound, undetectable in any environment other than the near- silence of the ward. Seconds later, another, identical noise followed the first.

The Doctor hadn't lived 1,750 years without learning what a silenced gunshot sounded like.

His regeneration- jumbled mind sent his body spiralling down into a terrified mass of instincts; he backed away from the door, terrified, as he waited for the danger to find him. He collided with the large window at the far end of the ward with an unnerving clatter; spinning around, he tried desperately to open the door, rattling the handles- but to no avail, it was locked.

Standing back, he noticed that a little boy was sitting up in bed, watching him. Their eyes met in the dark. Suddenly, the Doctor gave the child a massive grin, a brief wave, and ran at the window.

The intruder opened the ward doors just in time to hear the sound of smashing glass. As the ward was suddenly filled with grunting, muttering, a few screams of alarm, and general chaos, the figure swiftly retreated from the doorway, made a smart about- turn towards the stairs, and ran.

* * *

Sir Hector Bruce reclined in the back of his car, hands folded across his gargantuan stomach, his eyelids drooping, sleep lulling him. Suddenly he was jerked awake by the shaking of the car as a large, dull _thump_ smacked the roof. Sir Hector stared up at the top of the vehicle, his chins wobbling with concern.

"What the deuce was that?" he asked, somewhat alarmed, his large white eyebrows drawing closer together like colliding continents. "Something hit us?"

His chauffeur, who had applied the brakes as soon as the car had first been hit, opened the door and stepped out. As he left, Sir Hector could have sworn he heard a strange, high- pitched noise, followed by a soft slamming. The driver was gone for only a few seconds, then he returned.  
"Nothing there, Sir Hector. Possibly a bird…?"

Sir Hector grunted impatiently at the unconvincing excuse the meek fool had just given. He supposed he should expect more of this verbal mollycoddling, his servants and distant relations surrounding him, pampering him, keeping a constant, benevolent eye on him… and just making him feel more lonely than ever. The old man sniffed, wishing he didn't get so morbid when he was alone at night, and tried to get some sleep.

* * *

Colonel Bardon scrubbed sleep from his eyes with his fingers, although he had become completely alert at the news that had dragged him from his bed to the Hospital corridor along which he now grimly marched. As he approached the ward doors, he saw that three figures were already clustered around the prone figure on the floor: Private Ashworth, his face contorted with shock, but biting back an involuntary yawn, Captain Ceylon, frowning but otherwise apparently unaffected by the incident, chewing on some chocolate to keep himself awake, and Sergeant Drayle, alert as ever as she paced up and down beside the others, hands clasped behind her back. All three snapped to attention as the Colonel reached them.

Ignoring the display, Bardon knelt down to the covered body. Drawing back the sheet, he grimly viewed the expression of shock and surprise that McTavish's face had carried onwards into death. Bardon looked up, a haunted look on his face as he stared into the middle distance.

Suddenly, with a clattering of feet, Jenny Donague arrived up the stairs, adjusting her leather jacket as she jogged towards them. Resting her hands in the pockets of her black jeans, she stared at the body, her face crumpling in sorrow. Bardon stood up and stared at his civilian liaison officer. The young woman stared back, chewing her lip.

"McTavish was an experienced soldier…" she began.

Bardon nodded. "He was in Iraq before he joined UNIT."

Jenny continued, somewhat helplessly. "So… erm… it had to be somebody he knew, someone he wouldn't have challenged, someone who could take him so utterly by surprise as to get off two rounds before he could react…"

Bardon gave a single, sharp nod, agreeing with her assessment. "That's precisely what worries me, Donague." He turned to the others. "Did anybody in the ward see anything?"

Ceylon answered. "We haven't asked yet, sir. We only just got here."

Bardon looked at Jenny. "This is your department, really, but I'll come with you. I want some answers, now. Come on, let's get questioning." As they pushed through the double doors of the ward, he turned to Drayle. "Sergeant, get through to UNIT HQ. Tell Corporal Marshall we need reinforcements. This has suddenly got more serious than even I could have predicted," he ordered, before turning and marching smartly through the doorway.

* * *

The sleek black car drew up in the grounds of the relatively small but expensive looking old house, which rested alone on the hill. The chauffeur stepped calmly and smoothly from his seat, opening the back door for the mass of Sir Hector to progress out of.

"All right, man, I can manage," said the knight sleepily, half- heartedly slapping aside the man's hands. The old man's bulk cruised round to the back of the car, cursorily examining the car for damage. Sir Hector gave a brief glance at the boot as the driver opened it with practised ease to remove the luggage- and his craggy eyebrows shot up in surprise.

The Doctor grinned up at the two faces peering in at him. He waved at them with the arm resting on a small tartan suitcase. "Hello," he said pleasantly. "I expect you want to know what I'm doing here?"

* * *

Sir Hector's great- niece polished the table half- heartedly, wishing that the old duffer would get back soon, so that she could get to bed. The house _would _be such a long drive from the Hospital, she moaned inwardly. She was getting extremely bored of Uncle Hector's eccentricities, and extremely bored of Scotland. Sighing, she threw down the cloth at the exact same time as Sir Hector unlocked the main door and squeezed through it. He was accompanied by Smithers, and a strange, wild- looking tall man, who's short brown hair stuck up at odd angles, as if it were not only defying gravity but making rude hand gestures at it as well. And as for his clothes…

"Uncle!" Carol shrilled, blowing a dainty but false- looking kiss at the elderly gentleman. "Erm… who is this?"

"This," began Smithers stiffly, his composure almost cracking, "is-"

"-Is my guest, and will be treated as such!" said Sir Hector, loudly and grandly. "Now, my dear fellow, sit yourself down and tell me all about it. Carol, fetch the whisky."

"Uncle…" Carol began, in tones of steely warning. "Are you sure you're feeling well enough for-"

"I've had noisy soldier parade through my ward, I've had my car jumped upon and I've found a strange man in my boot," said Sir Hector Bruce pompously. "I've never felt this good in years. Now stop asking silly, patronising questions."

Carol frowned a little, but could not hold back a small smile. "If you say so, Uncle."

* * *

"This is a disaster!" raged Bardon, clutching his forehead. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he said: "So, we're effectively back to square one…"

"…Except that now we've got a murderer to deal with," finished Captain Ceylon. They were in the back of the UNIT jeep, being jolted along the road from Fort William to the Glen.

"That pretty much sums up the situation," Bardon muttered, vaguely watching the quivering backs of Ashworth's head in the front of the vehicle. "If only _somebody_ had seen the murderer's face…"

"Well, to be honest, Colonel," Jenny intervened. "They _were_ focusing more on the man running through a window."

Ceylon stretched his long legs into a different, even less- natural position. "Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. The Police have been informed, Drayle's staying behind at the Hospital to look over the CCTV… there's nothing more we can do. I say we catch up on some sleep."

"Er, yes, but we've still a lot to be getting on with, like, oh, I don't know… _the Ice Warriors?" _hissed Jenny sarcastically, narrowing her eyes at him, wondering how anybody could sleep, given the day's events. But, by the time she turned back to Bardon, he, too, had his eyes closed and was breathing gently.

Jenny made a noise of disbelief under her breath. Bardon opened one eye.

"Don't be so disapproving, Donague," he murmured. "I'm thinking. Now, shush and let me think in peace."

* * *

Sunlight filtered through the heavy, dusty curtains of Sir Hector's drawing room as the Doctor entered. The old man looked over at him, and lightly applauded.

The Doctor looked down at himself. He was now wearing a red and green tartan kilt, with matching waistcoat, along with a fresh frilled shirt, a black tie, and a black blazer. The Time Lord fiddled with the buttons of his jacket.

"Well, thank you for lending me the clothes, Sir Hector. They fit… erm… almost perfectly."

Sir Hector waved aside his thanks. "Not at all, my dear man. I've got no use for them now. Used to be my son's, as a matter of fact…" he suddenly stopped talking, staring into space.

"Where is he now?" asked the Doctor, settling himself into an armchair.

"Oh, he died, about thirty years ago, now," said Hector, with a feeble attempt at cheerfulness.

The Doctor leaned forward, his expression softening. "I'm sorry. If I'd known-"

"Oh, don't go all soft on me, Doctor. No, I'd sooner they were worn by _somebody_ than just left to rot." Sir Hector gave an immense sigh, then resumed. "No, I'm all on my own, now…" He swiftly changed the subject. "So, if someone's planning to kill you, what do you plan to do about it?"

The Doctor leaned back, smiling faintly now. "You seem to be taking my story in your stride."

Sir Hector surveyed him sternly over the top of a mug of tea. "You're either lying, or you're not. If you were going to lie, why would you come up with something like this?"

The Doctor assumed an expression of acquiescence, raising his eyebrows. "Well, normally I'd try to get in touch with UNIT." He scratched his chin. "But, given that UNIT are the only people who knew who and where I was, it seems logical that it _was_ somebody from UNIT who decreed the necessity for my execution." The Doctor lightly hit the arm of the armchair repeatedly in thought. "If only I knew what UNIT were doing up here."

"Aha!" said Sir Hector jovially. The Doctor looked up in hope. "They arrived in Glen Nevis about two months ago," explained the old man. "Then they started erecting some kind of scientific research building down in the Glen- disrupted the tourist trade no end, I can tell you- and issued a cacophony of invitations to all these sciencey bigwigs, and to local dignitaries as well- even I got one, imagine that!"

"What?" exclaimed the Doctor. "May I see it?"

"Top drawer, over there by the fireplace," instructed the knight. The Doctor followed the directions and withdrew the invitation from the drawer, examining it.

The information given was sparse, only that "a major scientific landmark in the evolution of the human race" was about to take place. The Doctor tapped the invitation thoughtfully against his chin. Finally he looked at Sir Hector. The knight looked evenly back at him.

"It allows you to take one guest," the Doctor finally said. "I-"

"Of course you can," said Hector. "As a matter of fact, I was wondering who to take. Not really Carol's sort of thing, you know. Not really mine, come to that."

The Doctor smiled again. "This really is amazingly good of you."

Sir Hector smiled benevolently. "Well, there's no point in being bad, so what does that leave?"

But the Doctor had already turned back to the invitation and was studying it carefully, deep in contemplation. Suddenly he noticed the date of the event.

"Ah… ha! Tomorrow! Looks like I'm just in time!"

"Just in time for what?" asked Sir Hector's niece, coming into the room.

"Just in time to stop UNIT making complete fools of themselves- as usual! Haha!" yelled the Doctor, jumping over to her and spinning her around cheerfully. He stopped and stared down at his boots in confusion, gripping his creased forehead in confusion. "Hmmm… me brain hasn't quite settled down from the regeneration yet… oh dear." He stared rather worriedly at Carol, then abruptly collapsed, his eyes rolling up into his head as he slammed to the floor.

* * *

Doctor Maglect yawned and adjusted his slightly crooked black tie. Taking advantage of his lack of company, he wiped condensation from the top of the cryo- chamber and stared in at the fearsome extra- terrestrial face below him. Eyes wide, he examined the creature carefully taking in the obscuring helmet, the scaly chin, and the eye- protectors. For all he knew, the creatures eyes could be wide open behind there, staring up at him. It was a chilling thought. Just as he took his prized silver fob- watch from his pocket to check the time, the door hissed open to admit Dr McStevens. Maglect gave a faint, wintry smile, which quickly faded when the eccentrically- dressed figure of Professor Quintus loomed up behind the woman.

McStevens gave an apologetic but determined look. "Sorry, Jeffrey, but I had to tell him."

Maglect gave her a long, cold, appraising look. "I understand. You were following your 'duty'. A pity."

Quintus stepped forward. "You realise, of course, old boy, that I've got to stop you from doing this."

Maglect held out his arms appealingly. "But why? It's not wrong, you know! I'm not doing anything wrong, here!"

McStevens folded her arms. "That's not true. Certainly, in the short term, it'll benefit humanity. But what about the other races that will come to harm through this? And do you think that these… these…" McStevens used the term that UNIT had used when the discovery had first been made, "These _Ice Warriors_ won't eventually turn their eyes to their nearest neighbours with the weapons that you would provide them with?"

Quintus moved around the chamber towards Maglect. "Indeed. You think civilisation will remember you fondly then?"

Maglect lowered his arms and backed away, slightly forlorn. McStevens also moved towards him. "What were you thinking, Jeffrey? What were UNIT going to say when they discovered that you'd revived it without their knowledge? We've only got one of the creatures, you know!"

Maglect looked up, a small spark of madness glinting in his eye. "Aha! You really think that any decent scientist would settle for an arrangement like that? Really? You think that _I_ would only settle for _one_ alien?"

Quintus drew back, shocked. "You mean… there are _more?_"

Maglect spun around, punching in a code into a wall panel. Quintus and McStevens looked to their right as an entire wall slowly moved aside to reveal a row of _six_ more cryo- chambers, standing upright, with the dim silhouettes of dormant Ice Warriors within.

That is, _five_ of them had silhouettes within.  
Maglect gave a shout of alarm that rang through the chamber, starting forward, he dashed over to the sixth chamber.

It was open.

Maglect drew back, covering his mouth in terror. "Someone else has been here before," he gasped out.

"You mean…" started Quintus.

"Someone else has revived a Martian! But without the proper tranquilisers, anything could happen! Somewhere in this complex… is a very awake… and probably very angry… live Ice Warrior!"

* * *

**More plot development in the next chapter. I_ promise._**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hurray, finally! I'll try to get up at least one chapter each week, but this is entirely dependent on writer's block (a particularly nasty case of which I had yesterday) and also schoolwork and terrifying things like that.  
But at least it isn't a _year _late or anything like that...**

* * *

Doctor Maglect leant against the cryo- chamber in the middle of the room, running his hand through his fringe in shock. McSteven's and Quintus' questions seemed to fill the air, pressing in on him. He waved a hand at them, trying to signal for quiet.

_And not just any Ice Warrior is missing,_ he thought, within the isolation of the inside of his eyelids. _It's my prize specimen. Their leader._ Or at least, what he took to be their leader: less armour than the others, with a more decorated helmet and cloak. And now- either running amok somewhere, or, even worse, lying akimbo on a rival scientist's dissecting table.

Professor Quintus strode around the chamber, his long white lab-coat billowing out behind him, taking control of the situation. "Now, look here. Who else knows about these extra chambers?"

Dr. Maglect took a breath to steady himself, then shrugged. "The workmen who built this and put the cryo- chambers in there, I suppose…" He glanced towards Quintus, sudden shock in his eyes. "I don't suppose…" he changed tack. "…I mean to say… UNIT has some rather advanced technology."

McStevens laughed unconvincingly. "Maybe, but what would UNIT want with an Ice Warrior all to themselves?"

Maglect looked at her witheringly. "I should imagine they would want it for quite a lot of things." He sighed, pushing his hair back with both hands. "I realise that this may seem very hypocritical to you, but…" he looked from one to the other. "Can we really trust UNIT?"

* * *

The following day was a very hectic one at the complex; technicians and scientists making final arrangements and adjufstments in the spacious lecture theatre, generally clashing with and getting in the way of the UNIT troops, who were, as one military machine, giving off the general impression of a smooth, well oiled and utterly primed organisation, but who were, in reality, frantically bustling around, filling time until the urgently needed reinforcements arrived on the scene from UNIT HQ.

Colonel Bardon sat ensconced in the comfortable prison of his office in an unused room of the complex, tapping his pen against the paper in front of him. No matter how often the duty had fallen to him, the registering of a death in his command never became a less painful experience. No matter for how long he stared at the blank paper, nothing came forth. His mind was locked off, focused on other things. Finally he gave a sigh of deep irritation, throwing down his pen and opening a drawer of his desk, pulling out a file. Flicking through the documents within, he stopped at a rough sketch of the menacing figure of an Ice Warrior. He stared at it grimly, as if trying to penetrate the pencilled mind of the image.

"Time to get some answers out of you," he said to the picture, and, throwing the file down on the desk, marched out of the office. He almost collided with Private Lamb, who, by the looks of things, had been anxiously hovering outside the door. Colonel Bardon, preoccupied with the slight headache at the epicentre of his general feeling of restlessness and uselessness, ignored the soldier. Lamb followed him uneasily.

"Colonel, I have to talk to you about what you ordered us to do, especially now McTavish is… well…"

"Can't it wait, Lamb?" said Bardon impatiently.

"Well, I don't think it can, sir. You see, I've been thinking-"

Bardon wheeled around, turning on the older man with a sharp retort on his lips, but was halted by the arrival in the corridor of Sergeant Drayle, who marched up to them and saluted.

"Corporal Marshall and the reinforcements have arrived, sir," she reported.

Bardon pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. "Erm… yes… the reinforcements. Er… fall them in, will you Sergeant? I…"

"Are you all right, sir?" enquired Drayle, taking hold of his arm, which immediately shook free of her grip.

"Yes, yes, of course I am, Drayle," snapped the CO, bustling off down the corridor. Lamb looked at Drayle bleakly, the veteran wondering how much longer UNIT could function with a group of inexperienced, uncooperative leaders who weren't willing to tell their troops basic facts.

* * *

As the effect of the sedatives finally filtered out of his system, Lord Nasskur wearily raised his head staring through his dazed red eyes at the figure who stood before him. Panicked, the Martian looked frantically around him. He appeared to be chained upright, in some grim- looking dark room.

A noise caused Nasskur to look up. Strange, soft but abrupt noises were coming out of the Earthling's mouth, and, with a rush of realisation and exasperation at the creature's stupidity, the Martian commander realised that it was trying to communicate with him.

"I do not speak your language," Nasskur snarled up at him. A sudden juddering noise emanating from a machine nearby caused Nasskur to jump, the chains twitching.

The Earthling continued to make his garbled noise. Nasskur gritted his teeth, but suddenly, from out of the mysterious machine came words- words in the Martian tongue. As the sentence rolled out of the machine, the Ice Lord realised that it was a translation of the strange figure's words.

"Do not struggle, Martian. You cannot escape, so do not try," the creature was saying.

Nasskur responded in his own language, correctly deducing that the machine would translate his words into the strange babble of Earth. "We mean you no harm. We are on a mission of exploration and colonisation. We did not expect to encounter intelligent life-"

The figure let out a short laugh. "You still don't realise, do you? You, my friend, and your ship, have been sealed within the ice, kept suspended there, for 100,000 years."

Nasskur drew back a little. He briefly considered that the figure- he?- she? It was impossible to tell- was lying, but, he had to admit, it was the most logical conclusion, given the lack of intelligent life other than the primitive hominids found by the first few missions to Earth. His next thought was for-

"Mars?"

The figure laughed unkindly. "A dead world. There's no one to help you now."

Nasskur clenched his claws in frustration, venting his rage in a hoarse bellow which reminded him how thirsty and hungry he was.  
"So… what do you plan to do with me?" the Martian finally said, defeat lacing his voice.

And so the Earthling told him. And then Nasskur began screaming.

* * *

It was the next day. The Sun was once again hanging low in the sky as depressed- looking soldiers directed cars in a lacklustre fashion into the complex's car park. Almost as soon as Sir Hector's car had halted, the Doctor bounded forth, his thumb vigorously stroking the lapel of his jacket as he looked around at the cloud- haloed mountains and the contrasting bland shape of the complex buildings. Shoving his other hand into the pocket of the suit trousers that he had replaced his kilt with, he stared after the marching backs of a pair of soldiers that had just passed by, glaring intently at them until Sir Hector tugged at his shoulder, pulling him away. The Doctor abruptly spun around, talking before the old man had even had a chance to open his mouth.

"Yes, you're right; no time to stand here dawdling; let's find the entrance and get on with this."

Sir Hector frowned. "But are you sure you're well enough for this, Doctor?"

The Doctor shook his shoulders irritably. "I'm fine. The regeneration should just about have stabilised now." He smiled faintly at Sir Hector's brief look of incomprehension, then, brushing down his tartan waistcoat, marched off towards the entrance, Sir Hector plodding steadily in his wake.

* * *

At the entrance, Private Dolbé was giving thef guests' invitations cursory glances with a bored, glazed look on his face. He gave a brief smile to Jenny as she passed by, but the young woman did not return the acknowledgement, instead staring out through the doors with an expression of disbelief. Private Keats marched through the door rubbing his chilled hands, only to be accosted immediately by Jenny, who pushed him in the direction of the main hall.

"Fetch the Colonel. Quickly!" she ordered. No sooner had he left than the automatic doors swung open to admit a tall man in a black suit, frilled shirt and tartan waistcoat, followed by a large, wheezing old man.

With a small, triumphant smile on his face, the former made a mock half- bow to Jenny.

"Hello, again," the Doctor said, before swinging around to face Dolbé. "Right, is this where we sign in?" Without warning, he swung back to Jenny. "I have got an invitation, before you ask, so, here I am, ready for the magical mystery tour, so now if you'll kindly tell me-" he took Sir Hector's invitation from his pocket and slammed it down on the desk without looking at it. "-What the _hell_ is going on?"

At that moment, Colonel Bardon, Captain Ceylon and Sergeant Drayle appeared, led by Private Keats. Bardon stared in amazement at the Doctor, while Drayle looked at the Doctor in apprehension, and behind her Ceylon glared coldly at the Time Lord.

"I do not believe it…" murmured the Colonel.  
"Aha!" said the Doctor, striding up to them with an expression of dislike on his face. _One of these people almost certainly tried to kill me,_ he thought. He gave a glance at Bardon's shoulder as if it were somehow offensive. "Colonel. What's the situation?"

Bardon stared down at him, making use of all of the two inches advantage that he had over him. "Now, look here-"

The Doctor stared about him blankly. "Where?"

Suddenly, he caught sight of an inconspicuous pair of doors with _No Entry_ printed on them. "Aha!" beamed the Doctor, and marched off towards them.  
"You can't go through there!" protested Private Keats impotently. The Doctor spoke to him through gritted teeth without looking at him.

"Well, if you won't tell me what's going on, I'll just have to find out for myself, _won't I?_"

"Ice Warriors," Ceylon suddenly blurted.

The Doctor slowly turned to him, triumph marked on his face. "Now _that's_ more like it," he said.

* * *

Doctor Maglect stood on the stage, polishing down his operating table. He looked up at the clattering of feet down the stairs into the auditorium, and found himself confronted by the intense glare of the Doctor, who was being followed by Bardon, Ceylon, Drayle, Jenny, and, rather more slowly, Sir Hector.

"Who the dickens are you?" asked Professor Quintus, staring indignantly up at the group as he strode onto the stage.

"Not important," retorted the Doctor, leaping up onto the stage from the bottom few steps. He strode right up to Maglect, who stared back at him stubbornly. "Where is it?" he demanded.

Maglect's head snapped around towards the Colonel. "Bardon!" he shouted accusingly. "How did this man find out-"

"Shut up!" snapped the Doctor. "Where is it?" he asked again, authority ringing in his voice.

"Downstairs. It'll be brought on in its cryo-chamber, thawed out, and revived by Doctor Maglect on the table," supplied Jenny, clambering up onto the stage.

Qunitus rounded on her. "I say, you had no right to tell him-"

"Thank you kindly," interrupted the Doctor, who was now pacing up and down. Suddenly, he stopped, turning on her again. "What was your name?"

"Jenny Donague, UNIT's public liaison officer," explained Jenny, gasping as she got her breath back.

"Thank you, Jenny," said the Doctor, giving her a brief smile, which just as abruptly vanished again as he continued pacing. "So, fill me in. Where did you find the Warrior?"

Bardon chewed his lip, before finally replying, "Its ship was discovered trapped deep inside the ice, in a hidden cave on the far side of Ben Nevis."

"Oh, right, right," nodded the Doctor cheerfully. "So, that gives you the right to, without warning, revive the poor thing in front of a gawping audience like it was an exhibit at a freak show, without knowing _a thing_ about its biology?" His lip curled. "You've progressed so little since the nineteenth century that I should have let you all blow up then."

"Enough!" bellowed Maglect. "Colonel, have you no control over members of the public? Take this man away!"

Bardon clapped a firm hand down on the Doctor's shoulder. "Come along, now, Doctor."

The Doctor tried to shake the hand off, but it was strong and full of meaning. Colonel Bardon tightened the grip even further, causing the Doctor to wince.

"All right, I'm coming," muttered the Doctor, allowing himself to be propelled from the stage, just as Sir Hector finally arrived, clutching his chest.

The old knight stared in dismay as the others walked past him again. "We're going all the way up again?"

"Oh, all right, Sir Hector can take his seat now," muttered Professor Quintus, taking pity on the old man. "But the rest of you, clear off!"

* * *

Once outside the lecture hall, Bardon finally released the Doctor, who turned on him.

"Look, do you want my help or not?" the Time Lord demanded furiously.

"Yes, but not your help in making a fool of yourself!" retorted the Colonel. "Now look, all we know about the Ice Warriors in what was in the brief report on them made by _you_. We know that some are friendly and some are aggressive. All we wanted to know is… which is this one?"

The Doctor slowly looked at the Colonel, true horror deep within his eyes. "My God…" he sneered, disgusted. "What, did you really think I could just stroll in here, take one glance at the creature you're about to butcher, and then just swan off again?" He frowned, aghast. "Good grief, what, did you think that all the "nice" Ice Warriors were a different shade of green from all the "nasty" Ice Warriors?" Neither looked away for several seconds, before the Doctor abruptly turned away, muttering "Get out of my sight," and stumping away towards the bar.

Colonel Bardon glared haughtily at the retreating back, before yelling "Seize him!" Keats leapt readily to grab the Doctor, who gave a shout of indignation.

"Sir-" began Sergeant Drayle in protest.

Jenny, however, beat her to it. "Sir, you can't do this!"

Bardon looked a little ashamed. "I've no choice. I can't risk my job by letting him run amok."

"Oh, stuff your job!" shouted Jenny.

"You can't talk to your commanding officer like that!" yelled Bardon. Both had just opened their mouths to continue bellowing, but at that moment, a siren rang through the air, and distinguished- looking guests began filtering through from the bar.

"I'll speak to you later," growled Bardon, before marching off towards the auditorium, gesturing to Keats and Dolbé to bring the Doctor with them.

* * *

Dr McStevens watched calmly as Corporal Marshall and Private Ashworth wheeled the cryo- chamber, now battery operated, out of the room and down the bland corridor towards the lift.

Making a note on her clipboard, she prepared to follow, but a sudden impulse held her back. Making quite sure that there was nobody around any more, she shut the door. Resting the clipboard on the clean floor, she stared at the wall, behind which she knew stood five dormant Martians. Finally, her scientific eagerness won. She just had to see them again. Hurrying to the control, she activated the false wall, causing it to slide aside, revealing the six secret stasis pods. McStevens stood back, allowing the awe of the moment to wash over her.

Suddenly, she frowned. She was an observant woman, and something simply did not ring true to her. She stared at the chambers through narrowed eyes. Finally, she realised what it was.

Silence.

And _that_ could only mean-

She marched quickly over to the wall, cursorily examining each pod. And then she stepped back, very, very carefully.

None of the chambers were connected to any power supply.

She had just backed up to a wall adjacent to the wall that housed the chambers, when-

_Smash. _A massive, solid- looking claw crashed through the covering of the farthest chamber, followed by a second, which shattered the misty, transparent surface altogether. As McStevens flattened herself against the wall in terror, the next casing fractured and collapsed under the weight of mighty blows from within, fuelled by the rage of the very much awake creatures. And the next. And the next. Finally, the casing nearest to her burst apart, and a roaring, snarling, heavily armoured, huge figure lunged forth, shaking its great fists before it…

* * *

Doctor Maglect looked up at his audience and smiled. "Ladies and Gentlemen. Honoured guests. The show is about to begin…"

* * *

**Well, I'm quite proud of that. Except the obvious bit where I had writer's block (around the start of the second 'scene').**

**Well, see you for the next chapter in a week. Or a year. Or whenever. Definitely by the time there's an actual thirteenth Doctor on TV.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Right, well, my internet was down yesterday, and FanFiction itself was being weird the day before, so... erm... here it is now.**

**FanFiction collapsed just as I was about to save the changes I made to it while proof reading. And I've tried, readers, I really have, but... I really can't be bothered to proof- read it again. So, while I don't recall there being that many mistakes, per se, it is a bit rougher than I would have liked in certain places. **

**Final point before I let you read the actual chapter: Flinch- Hayward has been trying to convince me that if I add to the summary "NOW WITH ADDED LESBIANS" (even though it has nothing of the kind (yet)) I'll get more hits and more reviews. So, if you don't want me to go to this extreme (or even if you do), REVIEW. **

**REVIEW BEFORE I COMMIT SUICIDE IN A FIT OF DEPRESSION. REVIEW BEFORE I START MANIACALLY KILLING OFF CHARACTERS. Which will probably be soon anyway.**

* * *

The Doctor scowled and struggled furiously, wriggling to escape the grip of the pair of large, hefty UNIT troops who had now seized him so. Finally, he relaxed, accepting the pincers of hands on his shoulders as he stared forward, anger simmering in his eyes. He frowned as the cryo- capsule slowly slid open, releasing a blast of chill mist from within. The Time Lord glanced towards one of the two massive projection screens which flanked the stage, and his jaw tightened as a very familiar silhouette formed from within the clouded chamber.

On the stage, Maglect calmly crossed to a smaller table, on which lay several heavy, gleaming metal instruments. He continued his speech as he picked up a particularly vicious looking implement.

"_What_ is that?" the Doctor snarled to the nearby Bardon through gritted teeth, though he had a fairly good idea.

"Now, in order for the extra- terrestrial to understand our tongue and thus share its knowledge with us, its brain must be attached to a vocal manipulator. This is a device that will translate its brainwave patterns into human speech, into English."

"This is butchery," growled the Doctor.

He watched in horror as Maglect began to cut through the Warrior's armoured skull, and begin to operate, feeding a device into the Martian's cranium. Finally, he withdrew his hands- just in time, for the creature began to scream and buck wildly, limbs flying everywhere. Maglect dodged back just in time to avoid having his ribs shattered by a massive claw.

* * *

Jenny watched the proceedings, viewing the pain of the creature in shock and distaste. Suddenly, she noticed Sergeant Drayle approaching her along the curvature of the large semicircle at the very top of the amphitheatre.

"Jenny," she whispered to her.

"This is wrong, Nikita," Jenny muttered back.

"What is? Oh, yes… but it's progress, isn't it? Look, I really need to talk to you… in private, if possible."

"Can't it wait?" Jenny asked, unable to look away from the primitive sight on the stage before her.

* * *

In the wings of the stage, Professor Quintus looked about, peering into the darkness. He stopped a lab assistant who was just about to go onstage, pushing another trolley of equipment. "I say, have you seen Doctor McStevens anywhere?" he muttered.

"She was in the stasis chamber about ten minutes ago," the youth replied quietly.

"Hmmf," Quintus said dismissively, making a brisk about- turn and descending the flight of steps towards the corridor.

He swiftly swept through the complex, his lab coat billowing slightly as he walked. He paused, still two corridors away from the chamber, at the sudden sound of a familiar soft Scots accent.

"Look, it's impossible," McStevens was pleading. Suddenly she gave a squeak of pain, and Quintus quickened his pace even further in the direction of her voice. "It needs at least two of the senior staff, and I- oh, how can I make you understand?"

Quintus rounded the corner- and immediately halted in horror, arms held out against the terror before him, the Professor slowly backing away. McStevens dangled somewhat limply, her throat in the grip of the huge, solid pincer- grip of a Martian fist. Four other Warriors surrounded McStevens and her captor- and all were looking at Quintus. One lumbered towards him, hissing and growling.

"No! Wait!" screamed McStevens. "He can help!"

"What's going on?" Quintus blustered fiercely.

McStevens turned her face, as much as she could, to him tearfully. "I could be totally wrong, Professor, but, as much as I can work out, I think… I think they want the equipment that we took from the spaceship."

"And you're going to give it to them?" asked the Professor.

"No… _we_ are," McStevens gulped. "It needs two of us to open the vault."

"All right, old girl, all right," Quintus said soothingly. With a slam he was abruptly backed into the wall by a hissing, grunting creature. "Now, look here!" he shouted. "You need me- you need us both!" he continued, pointing to himself and McStevens in turn and the gesticulating to the large, square, metal vault door set firmly into the wall. With a rush of hope, Quintus thought he detected a flash of understanding in the creature's body language. In confusion, he watched as it held a hasty, unintelligible conference with the figure holding McStevens, who was now sobbing in pain and fear. Suddenly, the Ice Warrior released her and she collapsed in a heap. The Warrior threatening Quintus also moved back and he hurried to help McStevens to her feet.

Together, they walked slowly to the vault door, casting anxious, worried looks at the quintet of giants who stared silently at them.

In unison, they keyed in their pass-codes into the keypads either side of the vault door. The two humans and five Martians all took steps back at the clicking and clunking that ensued from the heavy great door. Quintus stepped forward and slowly heaved it open. The lead Warrior immediately eagerly tossed him aside as if he were made of paper, and shuffled in.

Professor Quintus must have momentarily blacked out, for when he came to and saw McStevens' white and terrified face looking down on him, all five Ice Warriors were highly busy inside the vault.

McStevens and Quintus peered nervously and hesitantly around the edge of the nine- inch thick vault door. There, they watched one, obviously the leader, clipping into place a short cylinder on his wrist. The four others stood before him, all already bearfing the obviously- purposed tubes on their forearms.

"Now…" breathed the leader. Suddenly, as if remembering them at that moment, it turned to the doorway, at the same time as Quintus and McStevens set off on a mad dash up the corridor for freedom. "Sssssstop _them!_" screeched the creature. A Warrior shambled out of the door, raising its arm at the fleeing pair. It clenched its fist, and the weapon at its wrist let out a shrill whine, swiftly passing into ultrasonic. The far wall buckled and dented, but the terrified Scientists had already rounded the corner.

* * *

Atop the large amphitheatre, the Doctor had long given up his helpless protestations about the morals and ethics involved here to Bardon. Now he could only watch in disgust as the Ice Warrior, now chained to a grand, forbidding- looking chair sat dumbly staring forward, 'taking questions' from the audience, a process presided over by Doctor Maglect like some satanic talk show host. One ignorant spectator after another raised their hand to ask a futile question that was never answered by the resolutely silent Martian.

"How have you survived on a planet with such a thin atmosphere?"

"Is there mammalian life on Mars?"

"What do you use for currency?"

Sir Hector, sitting comfortably in one of the soft, sumptuous seats, raised a hand: "How do you feel?"

"Can we keep the questions to a purely scientific theme, please?" barked Maglect, but tf turned around as the vocal synthesiser whirred into life.

"I feel… in pain," answered the Ice Warrior. "I wish to be released."

* * *

"This is wrong!" insisted Jenny to an increasingly impatient Nikita Drayle.

The Sergeant looked up at her. "Well, there's not much we can do about it now, is there?" she snapped. "Now, look. I really think-"

But Jenny was already angrily marching off around the vast bowl of the room. Bardon looked casually to his right to be suddenly struck by what appeared to be a blonde fireball. "Stop this now!" insisted Jenny.

"I can't," Bardon said softly. "Besides, we're getting somewhere now, aren't we? The thing has just talked at last. Perhaps now we'll get some answers out of it-"

Two things then happened at the same time. One was that Jenny slapped Bardon around the face, hard. The Doctor gave a wince that was decidedly lacking in sympathy, but before he had even finished wincing, the doors slightly to the left of the group smashed open and Professor Quintus and Doctor McStevens burst through it, completely out of breath, McStevens weeping through fear, exhaustion and relief.

On the stage, Maglect looked up at the fresh intrusion, to see his missing colleagues. He had only just opened his mouth to ask a question, when Quintus cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled: "MARTIANS! MARTIANS LOOSE IN THE BUILDING!"

As the room collapsed in hysteria, Captain Ceylon turned on the dishevelled scientists.

"What? What the hell is going on? I thought there was only one creature? Colonel? Did you know about this?"

But Colonel Bardon was already moving away, dashing into the reception and slamming his palm down onto an emergency alarm.

As klaxons and bells rang throughout the building, there came a clatter of military boots on asphalt, and the UNIT troops on duty in the car park bounded through the doors with true British efficiency.

"What's going on, Sir?" asked Private Ashworth, cocking his gun.

Suddenly, with a cheery 'ping', the lift doors slid open, revealing the fierce figure of an Ice Warrior. It coolly raised its arm and fired. With a whirring, screaming, noise, the sonic weapon unleashing its devastating force on the soldiers. Corporal Marshall yelled in agony, clutching his head and collapsing to the ground. He twitched a little and lay still. Before anyone could stir themselves out of their shock, the creature stepped back, the lift doors closed and the lift retreated.

"That," Bardon said grimly.

Dolbe was still transfixed by the sight of the Corporal's body. "But- but- but- what? Why?"

A cold voice from the doorway to the lecture theatre made them all turn to see the Doctor peering out at them, still sandwiched between his guards. "To show they mean business," he said loudly. Suddenly, the guards were shoved out of the way by a crowd of screaming, yelling audience members, which caused them to momentarily lose their grip on the Time Lord. In a flash, he was gone.

Bardon pulled himself together. "Right, let's get these civilians out of here!"

He had time to take just one step towards the oncoming crowd, a hand held up to halt them, when, with a sudden shrieking and clanging, hundreds of shutters came clattering down over the doors and windows, plunging everyone into a strange semi-twilight, broken seconds later by the lights suddenly flickering on simultaneously. Ceylon ran for the doors, leaping over Marshall's body, but, with a series of bleeps and ominous clicks, every door and window in the building locked and sealed itself before he could even reach the main entrance.

Jenny barged her way through the crowd, storming up to her superiors, then drew up short at the sight of Corporal Marshall. Captain Ceylon swiftly gestured to Ashworth to help him carry the body into a corner, where he covered the face with his jacket.

"The complex is in complete lockdown," said Bardon furiously. "They've trapped us in here, and proved quite effectively that they can pick us off one by one if they so choose."

"But how?" said Jenny desperately. "How did they know where the security centre was? How did they know where to go to instigate a lock- out?"

Drayle joined them. "It might have something to do with the large, brightly coloured maps on every corridor wall."

* * *

Two Warriors stood in the security centre of the complex, looming over the bodies of the pair of UNIT troops who had been on duty there. One was carefully examining a bank of monitors, which displayed CCTV footage from all over the complex. The other stomped over to him. "Sssub- Commander Sslok," he wheezed.

Sslok looked up from the screens.

"Sssspeak, Gurzan," he said to his minion.

"Wasss it nesssesssary to kill the humansss? We have our weaponsss and transslatorsss. We have the possition of power. We did not have to-"

Sslok cut him off, jabbing his fist into his subordinate's chest. "They imprisssoned usss. It wasss our right to exact our revenge and ssshow our power. Who knowsss what they have done to Lord Nassskur and the others?"

"We do not know if they ssssurvived the crasssh landing," argued Gurzan, but Sslok was already walking away from the younger Martian.

"Whatever hasss happened to Lord Nasskur, until we find him, I command. You take your ordersss from me. Isss that underssstood?"

Gurzan bowed his head. "Yesss, Sssub- Commander."

Sslok gestured around him, at the darkened but large room in which they stood. "The humansss are at our mercy. They will obey usss."

Gurzan bowed again, still mentally considering the numerous problems with his Sub- Commander's plan, but seeing the wisdom of keeping silent.

* * *

Bardon marshalled his forces. "All right, then. Drayle, take Doctor McStevens and about five men, and get all these civilians to the reception lounge. That should be easier to defend than the lecture hall. Ceylon, if you take Keats, Dolbe and the rest and retake the security centre, and lift the lockdown. Donague, Ashworth, I want you to find the Doctor. Now, I'll take Professor Quintus or Doctor Maglect, and- where is Doctor Maglect, by the way?"

"I haven't seen him. He must be still inside," said Captain Ceylon. "With the Ice Warrior."

"What?" said Bardon, aghast. "The fool! Right, Keats, Lamb, come with me. I'll get the Doctor, you two restrain that thing." He set off angrily towards the doors, grasping the handles in both hands. He struggled with them for a moment, then: "Locked. Right, break the door down. Drayle, get moving!"

Drayle and her team began gesturing the grumbling, uncooperative guests down the corridor towards the lounge. Bardon turned to watch his men beating down the large, white set of doors to the lecture hall. He turned to Professor Quintus, who had regained some of his usual composure.  
"Now, you're sure about what you saw?" the soldier asked.

Quintus shrugged. "We _were_ in rather a hurry to be out of there. But it's like I said, they took the weapons and those things, which I suppose _must_ have been translators, that were on them when they were found, but they didn't really seem interested in much else in the vault…"

Bardon smiled briefly and slowly nodded to himself.

* * *

Doctor Maglect crouched by his prey, watching it intently. It had not responded either to the intrusion of his colleagues, or to the panicked departure of his audience.

"I know you can hear me," Maglect told it. "Now, I don't want to harm you. I really don't. But I was wondering if we could come to some arrangement."

"Oh, goody," snapped a sarcastic voice. "Someone wanting to line their own pockets while others around them suffer. One of the universe's most common forms of vermin." The Doctor made a leap from the back of a chair in the second row and onto the stage, where he landed on all fours, swiftly leaping to his feet.

"You again!" snarled Maglect, enraged.

"Now, look, Doctor," said the Doctor. "It would be futile to try and reason with an Ice Warrior after you've treated it the way you have. They can bear a grudge for a very long time."

Maglect also leapt to his feet, drawing together all his sense of authority. "You just seem to be hell- bent on ruining everything, don't you?" He lunged at a table and grabbed up a long, heavy, barbed instrument, and swung it at the Doctor, who ducked back, staring warily at the improvised weapon. Maglect continued to gesture at the Doctor, and the pair began to circle each other, the Doctor's eyes never leaving Maglect's surgeon- steady hands.

"This is my big moment," said Maglect fiercely, moving in for the attack. "And I won't let you stand in my way!"

* * *

**Reviews mean the Ice Warriors will spare you.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm back, at long last! Blimey, it was a whole different era of Doctor Who history when I last updated! Never mind, let's sally forth into Chapter Six. Looking back over it, not much happens compared to previous chapters, but I'm still pleased with it.**

* * *

The Doctor braced himself grimly as Maglect advanced upon him, wielding the instrument. The Time Lord stared at his adversary as he bore down on him, looking totally capable of murder. He took a quick skip backwards, sucking in his stomach as the ugly silver hook of the weapon arced towards his midriff. Now aware that he was being backed up against the pillar of the arch of the stage, the Doctor looked behind him for an escape route- and groaned in pain as his vision kaleidoscoped into an array of melding colours. _Another regenerative surge,_ he thought, before plunging off the stage in a semi- conscious stupor, smacking into the floor below with a thump.

Maglect dropped the instrument swiftly. Running a hand over his hairless forehead, he quickly moved to the edge of the stage, trying to see what had happened to the strange man he had been trying to ward off.

The scientist knelt on the stage, staring down the six- foot drop to where the Doctor lay, unmoving. Suddenly, he looked up, blinking in surprise as the doors to the hall slammed open, splintered wood flying in all directions. Colonel Bardon shoved past the butts of his men's guns, his own pistol extended down towards Maglect.

"Now, you just stop right where you are," commanded the Colonel authoritatively, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the figures on and below the stage, his jaw set firmly.

Maglect looked, a little less steadily than usual, up at Bardon, and blinked. For weeks now he had been treating the Colonel as a complete incompetent, someone just on his tolerance threshold. Now, for the first time, it seemed the Colonel was able to stand up for himself and actually behave like a soldier. And this worried, and irritated, Maglect.

Glaring at the Colonel, the scientist slowly raised his hands and, with some difficulty, got to his feet without breaking eye contact.

"Cover him," Bardon ordered to Lamb and Keats as he rushed down the irritatingly long flight of steps to where the Doctor lay. As his boot hit the last step, the prone Time Lord suddenly snapped upright, sitting up and staring wildly around him, his wide, shining brown eyes settling on Bardon.

"Blast!" he shouted irritably. "That could've been timed better! Never mind! Other things to do!" He scrambled to his feet, breathing heavily, and stormed towards the foot of the stairs. "Oh, hello, Colonel," he sneered in a voice of distaste as he passed Bardon.

Bardon ignored his tone, turning to follow him. "Are you alright, Doctor?" he asked.

"Probably not," the Doctor called cheerfully, bounding up the steps. "But that doesn't matter right now. Oh, by the way, watch out for that Ice Warrior."

Bardon half- turned just in time to see the Ice Warrior tear itself from its restraints with a wheezing snarl of triumph and sheer effort.

The two soldiers spun around to aim their guns up at the creature on the stage. As soon as the menacing twin barrels swerved away from his face, Maglect made a diving bid for escape, rolling on the floor and bounding into the cover of a small flight of steps leading into the backstage area.

The Doctor swiftly turned, clutching at a lapel with one hand and holding up his other in warning. "Wait- don't-"

His warning came too late; Lamb and Keats opened fire. The furious onslaught of bullets caused the Martian to stagger backwards, crashing into the chair, yelling in frustration and irritation.

"Brilliant!" spat the Doctor. "I knew I could always rely on UNIT to make the situation worse!"

His attention was suddenly diverted by the sight of Maglect backing quickly out of his escape route, staring nervously at the tall, imposing figure driving him back.

"Worse and worse," moaned the Doctor softly as the Ice Warrior raised its weapon.

Suddenly, the roaring of the creature on the stage caused its comrade to turn.

The Doctor anticipated the horror and murderous rage at what had been done to its fellow moments before it came. Leaping down the steps, he hurled Bardon bodily up the stairs as he passed.

_I've got no plan,_ the Doctor realised as he clattered to an abrupt halt between the armed Warrior and the two UNIT troopers, raising his palms to the Martian in a gesture of peace. "Now, then…" he began, but was suddenly knocked to one side from behind, landing in a half- crouch on the floor.

"Get down!" yelled Private Keats, priming a small explosive as he prepared to throw it across the room at the Warrior.

"No!" yelled the Doctor and Bardon at the same time, but the Warrior's reflexes were like lightning; it fired instantly, the force of the sonic blast hurling Keats' shattered corpse towards the opposite wall.

Immediately the Doctor was on his feet, one hand on Private Lamb's belt and the other on his collar as he hauled him towards the stairs, the elderly soldier's feet leaving the floor with the Doctor's strength of urgency. The Colonel dashed upwards a few steps ahead of them, expecting all the while to hear the whine of a Sonic Weapon just behind him.

Sub- Commander Sslok permitted himself a small smile of victory as he raised his arm to fire on the cowardly humans as they attempted to escape. But at the very moment that he was about to clench his fist, his arm was batted aside, sending the shot wide across the vast room. In his fury, all thoughts of vengeance on his mammalian foes were thrust from Sslok's head as he wheeled on Gurzan.

"How dare you ssstrike me?" he demanded, baring his teeth as he shoved Gurzan up against the front of the stage, his powerful forearm across his subordinate's throat.

Gurzan stared fearlessly back. "We ssshould not blindly continue an offenssssive assssault! We ssshould attempt to communicate! You cannot fight an entire planet, Ssssub- Commander!"

A sudden noise caused them both to look to the nearest corner of the amphitheatre, where, forgotten by both Martians and humans, Doctor Maglect was crouched in a corner, looking warily at the confrontation.

Sslok smiled, and took a step towards his human prey…

* * *

The shattered doors to the lecture hall swung open as Bardon, Lamb and the Doctor burst through, causing Jenny and Captain Ceylon to look up from their worried conversation.

"Doctor!" Jenny exclaimed, rushing forward to the breathless Time Lord.

"Ah, Jenny," the Doctor panted, looking up. "Help me with this gentleman, will you?" Together, the pair of them hauled the wheezing old soldier into a corner, sitting him up against the wall. "He'll be alright," the Doctor said dismissively, giving Lamb a cursory glance before drawing himself up to his full height, staring down at the people around him: Professor Quintus, full of scientific curiosity, peering through the cracks in the double doors, eagerly trying to catch a glimpse of the Ice Warriors; Bardon, Ceylon and their men hauling tables and vending machines to the doorway to create a rudimentary blockade; Jenny watching him, filled with interest about the mysterious Doctor, but also, the Doctor was flattered to note, with the beginnings of glimmerings of trust in the Time Lord.

"Right!" the Doctor shouted, authority lacing his voice, causing even Bardon to automatically listen to him. "Seeing as you and your toy soldiers have done nothing but make the situation _monumentally_ worse, I'm off to sort out your mess. I suggest that the rest of you bog off somewhere and defend yourselves as best you can while-"

"Now, see here, Doctor-" Bardon began forcefully.

"-_As best you can_ while I go and try and prevent the Ice Warriors from quite understandably slaughtering you all!"

Captain Ceylon instinctively reached for his holster. "Here, you can't just-"

"Doctor, I refuse to let you run around this base alone!" Bardon shouted at the same time.

The Doctor rounded on him. "Right! Very well! I'll take Miss Donague with me!" he snapped. "Come along, Jenny," he said, marching towards a side door, turning, and holding out a hand to her.

Jenny glanced at Bardon. "Donague, stay where you are," the Colonel ordered. "We need everyone we've got to fight the enemy."

The young woman levelly held his gaze. "But what if we don't have to fight?" she asked. She turned back to the Doctor, who was still staring grimly at her. Impulsively, she reached out and grabbed his hand. The Time Lord smiled softly, then turned and pushed open the door with his free hand. Together, the Doctor and Jenny ran into the maze of the complex, and were soon lost to sight.

Ceylon stared helplessly after them, then turned to his superior. "What shall we do, sir?" he asked apprehensively.

A muscle twitched in Bardon's face. "Do?" he snapped, still looking at the doorway through which the two absconders had disappeared. "Ceylon, take everybody here and secure the security centre. That must be our key priority!"

"What will you do, sir?" asked the Captain.

"Never you mind, Captain," Bardon said, walking away. Ceylon watched, concerned, as Bardon drew his pistol from his holster, appearing to weigh it in his hand before disappearing through the door.

Rubbing his chin worriedly, Ceylon turned to the small group of UNIT troopers before him. "Right, you lot," he began. "You heard the Colonel. Let's take back our territory!"

Professor Quintus hurried up to him. "And, er, what shall I do?" he asked.

Ceylon turned to him, and silently marched over to Corporal Marshall's covered body. He picked up the Corporal's gun, hefted it, marched back to Quintus and shoved the weapon against his chest. "You're going to fight for humanity, Professor!"

* * *

In the reception lounge, Sergeant Drayle tapped her foot impatiently as she watched the two men crouched behind the barricade, weapons trained on the unnerving space beyond the room. All around her, dishevelled- looking men and women sat against the walls, shivering, sobbing, some just staring into space.

At the bar, Doctor McStevens had poured herself a whisky, but hadn't yet touched it, staring at the glass as if afraid it might bite- or start firing a sonic weapon at her. Drayle went over to her, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. McStevens jumped, spilling the whisky slightly, droplets spattering the wooden surface of the bar.

"Hey, steady," said Drayle, releasing McStevens. She sat down next to the scientist. "The important thing is that we remain calm."

The Doctor gave an amused hiccough. "Is that in your little sergeant's rulebook?"

"It's in the rulebook of common sense," Drayle replied gently.

"Well said," came a rich voice from nearby. They turned to see the unmissable bulk of Sir Hector Bruce firmly ensconced in on of the more comfortable looking chairs. "Look," the knight explained. "The people out there are the best of the best, aren't they? Well, that's good enough for me to invest my trust in them, and I suggest that you two young girls do the same."

"Well, what are we meant to do in the meantime?" McStevens demanded, her voice rising towards hysteria.

"Well, I don't you about you," Sir Hector replied, stretching his legs. "Drink yourself silly, for all I care. I, in the meantime…" he fished a large handkerchief from his breast pocket, and, lying back, placed the material over his face. "… am going to have a nap."

* * *

The Doctor dashed down the stairs, into the heart of the complex, Jenny struggling to keep up with the manically charging Time Lord. She broke into a run to try and match the pace of his strides- and suddenly collided with the Doctor's broad back as he abruptly stopped. He spun around, forcing her to take a pace or so backwards, a quizzical look on his face. "By the way," he began, a faint smile on his face. "How do I look?"

"Er…"

He brushed back his fringe, running a hand through his tangled brown hair. "Well, it's always nice to get an outside opinion." He leant forward. "So, how do I look? I mean, I know I'm no Miss World, but…" he left the sentence hanging.

Jenny bit her lip. "Erm… just… normal…" she sought for something tactful to say. "…average…" she gave up. "You're right Doctor, you're no looker."

The Doctor shut one eye, and scrutinised her through the other for some time. Finally he grinned. "Let's say 'rugged,' shall we?" he said, before turning and beginning to stride down the corridor, peering in through every door. He turned again just as Jenny caught up. "It's just…" he began, blinking as if to keep something out of his eyes, "It's just… this is my last time. My last body, my last regeneration." He looked at Jenny, his eyes shining. "Mortality. It's terrifying. I don't know how you lot cope."

Jenny looked straight at him, talking frankly to him. "We just… milk life for all it's worth."

The Doctor looked away, apparently busying himself pushing the collar of his suit jacket upwards. When he looked back, his gaze was clear. "Good answer." He resumed his apparently haphazard striding along the corridor.

Jenny rather cautiously began following him, keeping to the other side of the corridor, so that when he very suddenly halted yet again, as indeed he did, she avoided yet another collision with his shoulder blades.

"Ooh, hello!" the Doctor exclaimed, peering in through the tiny round window of an inconspicuous steel door.

"What?" Jenny asked, coming over to him.

"Well, look," the Doctor told her. She obediently peered in through the porthole.

"I repeat, what?"

The Doctor turned to her. "Aha! You haven't been paying attention!"

He pointed to the door further down the corridor, one which they had just passed. "Look through that one."

Jenny dutifully walked over to the previous door and examined the room. It seemed normal enough, just another storeroom, but…

"Now, wait…" she said to the Doctor, who was now grinning at her. She began to walk down the corridor. "Now, _that_ room stops _here_," she said, pointing to a certain point in the wall. She continued walking. "And _that_ room begins _here_," she said, and then looked up. "You think there's something between them?"

"I certainly do," said the Doctor. "I mean, what's the point of building it like this? An underground complex, every square foot of this place costs money!"

"So… there's _something_ between these two rooms," said Jenny. "How does that help us? How do we get to whatever it is?"

"You're forgetting my legendary sonic screwdriver!" said the Doctor, flourishing said instrument with a grin. He began to sweep the wall with the device.

"Anyway, how does this help us stop the Ice Warriors?" Jenny asked.

The Doctor shrugged. "Yes, I suppose there's a chance that it might have nothing at all to do with the Ice Warriors. But I very much doubt it. Why don't you apply your questioning mind to who might be in a position to build a room and then hide it away in such a manner."

Jenny crouched down beside the kneeling Time Lord. "Erm… Doctor Maglect and Doctor McStevens have been with the project from the start. Professor Quintus joined just after building started. Then there's a bunch of Lairds and Councillors and the like…"

The Doctor turned to her. "What about people from UNIT?"

Jenny thought for a moment. "Well, Colonel Bardon and Arj- erm, Captain Ceylon have been overseeing the whole thing, but I really don't think they'd- Doctor, what are you suggesting?"

"Me? Oh, I'm just bouncing a few hypotheses off you," said the Doctor cheerfully, standing up and taking a few steps back. "I'm sure your friends are totally innocent and I'm completely wrong… even though I never am… aha!" He delivered a precise kick to a spot at the base of the wall and a panel at head height swung open. The Doctor examined it carefully, and began wielding his sonic screwdriver at it. "Now, if I resonate this at just the right frequency… I can trigger the same reaction as if the correct code had been entered… ooh, even better, here comes the code now… I wonder whose birthday that is…" The Doctor's prattling died away as a section of wall slid open. "Quick, through we go," he said cheerfully, ushering Jenny through. Whisking off his tie, he positioned it so that the knot was in line with the sliding panel, and hopped over it. The panel slid back, put was stopped from closing completely by the new obstruction.

* * *

Jenny blinked, trying to acclimatise to the near pitch blackness of the secret chamber. The Doctor began shining the screwdriver about: little beams of green light projected off into the darkness. "Aha! Light switch!" he said, and suddenly Jenny was reeling from the light that filled the room, causing her to press the heels of her hands into her eyes until the flashing had stopped.

Gingerly she opened her eyes, and, shoulder to shoulder, they stared at the sight that greeted them.

"Blimey."

* * *

**Ooh! Anyway, carry on Reviewing! Bountiful thanks to the handful of people who have been reviewing so far, it's much appreciated. **


	7. Chapter 7

**What do you think about that? I've actually finished this chapter! For anyone expecting fast- paced action, sorry. This entire chapter- which is longer than usual- is made up of four rather long scenes. Never mind, things should hot up as we move into the final chapters soon. We might actually get some action on the titular mountain! Meanwhile, on with this:**

* * *

"Blimey," breathed the Doctor, stepping forward to examine the figure chained to the wall. "How barbaric."

"Careful, Doctor," Jenny said warningly.

"Why?" said the Doctor, without looking at her. "There's nothing to fear from a helpless, comatose prisoner."

Jenny stepped forward, looking at the Martian. She noted the lack of armour, the more streamlined helmet and the stained, torn tunic and cloak. "Certainly looks less menacing than the others- hey, was this some kind of leader?"  
"An Ice Lord," the Doctor confirmed. "And less of the past tense, if you don't mind." Whisking his sonic screwdriver from his inside pocket once more, he began undoing the Ice Lord's bonds.

Jenny started to slowly walk around the room, examining the clean but dull metal of the walls, and a table of ugly looking instruments.

"Torture devices, by the look of 'em," said the Doctor, causing Jenny to look round at the Time Lord, who was lowering the groggy creature to the floor. His voice was low, and there was an unpleasant sneer on his face. "You've got to hand it to humanity. When it comes to finding new and imaginative ways to cause pain and suffering for the flimsiest of reasons, you really take the cake," he muttered, and then turned to Jenny, as if realising something. "Not you, personally, of course, but your ugly, decadent, pathetic race as a whole. Sometimes I just _hate it!_"

Jenny jumped as the Doctor furiously delivered a kick to the table of torture instruments. Implements flew across the room, clattering against the wall and floor.

"And yet you keep coming back," Jenny reminded him quietly.

"Yeah, well, I like the fjords," said the Doctor, suddenly beaming.

Jenny found herself wondering if he was always like this, cheerful and joking one minute, then exposing a serious, somewhat terrifying side the next.

As if reading her mind, the Doctor laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Oh, don't worry about the mood swings. I'm sure it's just a side effect of the regeneration, and it'll pass shortly, and we'll get along like a house on fire, and didn't that wall sound hollow when the instruments hit it?"

Suddenly he clapped a hand to the side of his head. "Yes! Yes, it did! Flippin' heck, how many false walls can this place have?"

He rushed over to said wall, sonic screwdriver at the ready. "Should be easy enough… whoever put this here won't have been expecting anybody to have got into the room at all, and so…"

Jenny was no longer fully listening; something had caught her eye.

"Hey… Doctor?"

"Yeah?"

"I've seen this before- It's one of the translation devices from UNIT!"

The Doctor glanced up at the large metal construct. "Ah, I was wondering about that. Belongs to UNIT, you say? Things aren't looking good."

Jenny opened her mouth, a hundred comments on her tongue, but suddenly she noticed something rather important. Stepping smartly over the Doctor, who was cursing the ineffectiveness of his screwdriver, she pushed the concealed latches on the wall to and smugly slid the collapsible metal structure aside.

"Ah," said the Doctor brightly. "A nice reminder that not everything has to be complicated. Well spotted, Jenny."

And then he saw what had been hidden away.

Jenny saw the horror and fury on his face, and moved to stand beside him, looking at the large cryogenic suspension chamber, through the cloudy interior of which five shadowy figures slowly bobbed. Four of them were slim, with vaguely human proportions, but bearing subtle differences: the shape of the heads suggested crests, and those hands and feet could not possibly be anything other than webbed. The fifth was much smaller and chubbier, with slightly different proportions.

"Are they…?" began Jenny.

"Oh, yes…" breathed the Doctor. "Martian females."

"And child," Jenny added quietly.

The Doctor's breathing became quicker, angrier. "And child," he confirmed.

Jenny swiftly laid a hand on his shoulder: she could feel it shaking. "Steady, Doctor, steady," she said softly, calmingly. "It doesn't look as if any of them have been harmed."

"You don't know that," the Doctor said, still transfixed by the sight of the helpless prisoners.

"You've got to stay calm," Jenny continued. "You can't go flying off the handle, tempting though it may be, not now, not-"

Suddenly, they both turned at the noise of a hissing, wheezing exhalation of pain behind them. The Doctor ran forward to catch the Ice Lord as it lurched towards the ground in a futile attempt to stand.

"Easy, easy," breathed the Doctor, pushing the creature gently but firmly back to the ground. As if suddenly realising something, he hastily began trying to place his body between the Lord and the horrifying sight of the Martians in their terrible captivity, but he was too slow; the Martian noble let out a roar of pure rage. The Doctor gave a short yell as he was painfully shoved aside by the mighty figure, who was propelled to his feet by adrenaline and rage.

Blinking back the creeping shadows of unconsciousness from his vision, the Doctor leapt up, grabbing hold of the Ice Lord as it lumbered towards its entombed fellows.

"Steady, steady, old boy!" pleaded the Doctor, pulling on its shoulder.

The creature wheeled on him, snarling. Jenny watched as the Doctor hastily let go and retreated, holding up his arms to protect his face in a movement that seemed at first uncharacteristically cowardly, but revealed itself as a gesture of peace and surrender that the Warrior understood, as it began to calm down somewhat, stepping away from the Doctor and, turning, falling to his knees before the entrapped figures.

"Where… isss… the one who hasss done thisss?" it slowly wheezed.

The Doctor knelt with him. "I wish I could tell you," he said. "But right now I can't even tell you who that is."

"Who… are you?"

"I'm known as the Doctor. This is Jenny. And don't worry… I fully intend to bring everything here to an end."

A small cough caused the Doctor to look up. Jenny folded her arms. "Can I join in this conversation, or is it reptiles only?"

"Ah," the Doctor said, rubbing at his earlobe. "Sorry, my dear, I forgot about you for a bit."

Jenny blinked, thrown off guard by the Timelord's abrupt change from a growling, hissing snarl back into his usual, rather more refined English drawl.

"See, the thing is, all languages across the universe sound the same to me," the Doctor said, speaking calmly but quickly. "It's a shame you don't have the benefit of an advanced telepathic link with a powerful machine, but…" he glanced around the room, his face suddenly lighting up. "Ah! Of course! Yes, you can just switch on that monstrosity over there," he said, nodding at the UNIT translation device.

Jenny moved over to the machine and examined it, flicking at the large and simple switch in the corner in the hope that whatever species UNIT had pilfered the device from had similar aesthetic tastes to humans. Unsurprisingly, the machine was already attuned perfectly to translating Martian dialect into English, for the odd hissing and gurgling from the corner coalesced into recognisable words almost immediately.

"Now, then, my friend, you must try and tell us more about the person who did this to you," the Doctor was saying.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, the door to the room opened with a soft whirr and a click that seemed to make the whole chamber stand still. Jenny stopped breathing as she turned to the doorway to see Colonel Bardon framed in the entrance, gun immediately levelled at the Ice Warrior –or was he aiming at the Doctor?- as soon as he had taken in the entire tableau.

"And just what is going on here?"

* * *

The small contingent of humanity nervously approached the security centre of the base. Ceylon led the way grimly, well aware of the limited effect his relatively primitive weapon would have on the Warriors. Behind him, Private Ashworth gently tugged at Professor Quintus' arm.

"Would it be possible," he began in a whisper, "to somehow get to the security centre by crawling through the air conditioning vents and-"

His eager elaboration was cut off by a snort of exasperation from Dolbé. Before Dolbé could begin to voice his caustic retort, Lamb moved closer to them to join in the muttered meeting.  
"The truth is, nothing we can do is going to do any good. I've faced those beasts before, and we certainly ain't going to bring them down with bullets."

Ceylon abruptly halted, and wheeled on the group.

"You know what, Lamb?" he muttered, marching towards them. "Maybe you should've stayed with Sergeant Drayle. Technically, this mission calls for _able- bodied_ officers only."

Lamb bristled. "My age has in no way diminished my combat skills, _sir._ All I said was that-"

"Ssh!" implored Quintus, looking around wildly.

"What you said could amount to mutiny in some officers' books. Now, I'm willing to overlook it for now, but the fact remains that this is _my_ mission, and-"

"Be quiet, please! Anything could hear you!" pleaded Quintus.

"You know as well as the rest of us that Bardon's ordered us on a suicide mission!" snapped Lamb, his voice breaking out of the whisper.

"_Will you please_- too late," whimpered Quintus, trying to wipe his brow and realising that he had a heavy gun in his hand. The small ring of soldiers spun into combat positions, levelling their weapons as a single Warrior emerged from the security centre further up the corridor, slowly looked around, and with a terrifying inevitability, saw the humans and began lumbering towards them. Simultaneously, a second Warrior began to approach from the other end of the corridor, trapping Ceylon's force in the ever decreasing gap between them.

Ashworth blinked his vision into clearer focus as he stared along the sights of his gun and waited for the order to open fire. Then, inexplicably he began coughing. The soldier to his right also began to choke, dropping his weapon to wipe at his mouth.  
"Gas attack!" choked Lamb.

"What?" Dolbé asked, his voice cracking a little, suddenly sounding very young and vulnerable. "But- but- how?"

Quintus, regaining his scientific composure as he latched onto the situation, sniffed at the air. "At a guess, I'd say they're adapting the air to an atmosphere that they're more used to- an atmosphere once held by Mars. Thus, they'll be able to move and breath freely-"

"-And we'll be the ones lumbering around- if we can move at all, yes, I get the idea," Ceylon said bitterly. He sighed and glanced around at his men, clearing his throat a little as he began to feel the effects of the new air. "Well, I suppose there's nothing for it… OPEN FIRE!"

The two Warriors paused a little, reeling, as the air was suddenly filled with the deafening roar of bullets, the clatter of shells hitting the floor, the sound of the increasingly laboured breathing of the troopers. The Warriors were forced to take a few steps back, flecks of their armour breaking off and shooting to the side.

Suddenly, they retaliated, bringing their sonic weapons up to bear and firing on the cluster of humans. Two of the troopers fell, some of the rest dropping their weapons and clutching their heads in pain as the sonic screeching of the armaments filled the corridor.

"We can't hold this position!" bellowed Lamb.

"No! Hold the line!" bellowed Ceylon. A UNIT soldier hefted a grenade to hurl at the enemy, but was struck down before he could use it. The grenade rolled deceptively slowly and softly over to the wall about fifteen feet away, and stopped.

And then it exploded.

Quintus screamed, his nerve gone, and threw his unused weapon at the ground, running away from the explosion, towards the other Martian, who reoriented itself just enough to smack Quintus across the back with a heavy claw. Qunitus felt something in his shoulder shatter as he slumped to the floor. The Warrior turned to finish him off, but was suddenly beset by Dolbé, who, with a ferocious and animalistic roar, threw himself at his enemy, smashing furiously at the creature with his gun. Ashworth assisted as best he could, wielding his gun as a club with one hand, the other hanging limp as blood trickled from within the sleeve.

"Dolbé! We've got to help the Science Guy!" yelled Ashworth. While the creature was still confused, they broke off the attack, and, letting their guns hang from their shoulders, scooped the injured Quintus from the floor and ran- hobbled for their lives out of that fateful corridor, Quintus' feeble whimpers of agony ringing behind them. The Ice Warrior considered pursuit, but instead chose to blast down two more of the humans as they attempted to flee in disarray.

Private Lamb burst through the flames of the explosion, emerging on the other side, his elderly heart beating fit to burst. As he staggered further up the corridor, he tripped and almost fell over the body of the Warrior caught in the blast. Its helmet was shattered, revealing the defenceless, almost frail face beneath. Its weak red eyes glared up at the human. Lamb lifted his gun, half considering leaving his weakened foe as he had found him. Then he noticed the twitching wrist, slowly rising to aim the sonic weapon at Lamb. Quickly, the soldier aimed his rifle directly at the unguarded face, looked down the sights briefly, then fired.

Lamb turned away, then turned back. "Sorry," he said gruffly, then wearily marched on.

* * *

In the lounge, the survivors reached for anything to defend themselves with as they heard the faint sounds of the far- off explosion.

"What was that?" asked McStevens, looking up from her foetal position on the floor.

"Nothing good," murmured Sir Hector, suddenly serious.

Drayle was already cautiously approaching the doorway, gun at the ready. "I can't see anything…" she began, but McStevens was already on her feet, hysteria shining in her eyes.

"What are we doing?" she whimpered. "We're just being cooped up here ready for the slaughter. We've got to get out of here! There's only a few of them; we'd be better off on the move. Why are we still here? Why aren't we going? Why aren't we going?"

Sobbing, she headed for the door, roughly shrugging Drayle off as the sergeant tried to restrain her. The scientist stumbled out over the barricade, staggering down the narrow corridor beyond... straight into the waiting arms of an Ice Warrior. The creature released her, letting the scientist slump into a pile at the Martian's feet. From behind the barricade, Drayle watched, horrified, as the Warrior stared solemnly down at McStevens. Then, slowly, it raised its arm… and calmly pointed down the corridor towards the lounge. Her eyes transfixed fearfully on the alien features, McStevens desperately back- pedalled backwards down towards the lounge. She awkwardly got to her feet just as Drayle climbed over the barricade to help her.

Drayle stared grimly at the Warrior as it sombrely looked back at her. "I would assssk you to remain within thisss chamber," the Martian growled. "I am under ordersss to resssspond to forssse in kind."

The two soldiers held eye contact for several seconds. Then, slowly, Drayle nodded, and as McStevens collapsed, sobbing, into her arms, turned and helped the other woman over the barricade.

The Ice Warrior calmly returned to its post just around the corridor, and went back to its memories of Mars.

* * *

"Thisss… isss… him." Lord Nasskur breathed. The Doctor slowly raised his head to stare in horror at the man before him.

"What? What's it talking about?" barked Bardon.

The Doctor remained silent, getting to his feet and swiftly marching over the Colonel, a mask of rage blanking out all other emotions on his face.

"Now, Doctor, stay back!" Bardon made a gesture with his gun.

The Doctor stopped, less than two feet away from Bardon, cocking his head in a gesture of disbelief. "Colonel Bardon… you know I'm not a man of violence."

That said, the Doctor abruptly grabbed hold of Bardon's gun, twisting it out of the Colonel's hand and tossing it across the room in the same movement. With the other fist, the Doctor delivered a brutal punch to the man's stomach which sent him winded to the ground. The Doctor stared at the man he had just felled, then turned to Jenny.

"Wow, that was violent. Is that the sort of person I am now? That… that's scary."

A noisy shifting alerted them to the fact that the Martian had got to its feet. It stood to attention before the Doctor, who made a short bow in recognition of the obvious majesty of the figure, which the torture had done little to dent.

"Thank you, Doctor. I am Lord Nassssskur. Now, let ussss take thisss sssscum, and forsssse him to reveal how to releasssse my Lady and my child."

"Sounds like a plan," said the Doctor firmly, before suddenly swinging round at the sound of another new arrival in the room.

"Lamb!" gasped Jenny, moving forward to help the old soldier, who was gripping the doorway for support, wheezing, drops of blood shooting forth onto his lips, his face pale, his grey hair in disarray.

"I… I just… how did you find this place?" he gasped out. Suddenly his attention was caught by something else. "What happened to Colonel Bardon?"

"You knew about this room?" asked the Doctor.

"Yeah, I… I helped construct-" he broke off into a fit of coughing.

"It's alright," Jenny said softly, unsure whether to move him in his condition. "We know about Bardon's orders. Whatever you did for him, you weren't to blame."

She looked down at Bardon, still spluttering on the floor. "He won't be giving any more secret orders."

"Secret- secret orders?" Lamb said weakly. "But I didn't get my orders directly from Bardon. It was-"

Jenny jumped, squeaking a little in shock as a frightening loud gunshot rang out. Lamb spasmed where he stood, then fell to the floor, revealing the devastating wound that had stopped his already weakened organs.

Into the doorway stepped the silhouette of Captain Ceylon, gun still in hand.

"Like a Lamb to the slaughter," the Captain said softly, staring down at the dead man. "I really didn't like him, you know."

He looked up at the horror- stricken quartet in the room. "So, you know about this place. Shame about this, but I'm going to have to kill you all now."

He raised the murder weapon, pointed it at Jenny's head, and smiled…

* * *

**Egad! So, the traitor is revealed, Martian air is being flooded through the base, and Doctor Maglect remains in the clutches of the Ice Warriors! Ooh! Although, knowing me, it'll be another two months before I've finished the next chapter. **


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